


Strictly For Convenience

by theepitomeofamess



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-08 02:11:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theepitomeofamess/pseuds/theepitomeofamess





	1. Chapter 1

The first time he’d seen Mister Logan Foster, it was from the entrance of a gloomy cobblestone church through a veil of gossamer. He’d just been a silhouette in that moment, a statue painted with a charcoal suit and slick dark hair, a scythe away from presenting himself as the Grim Reaper come to take his soul. Patton could feel his heart slamming against his chest, trying to break free, to fly away from the life that he didn’t want but couldn’t bring himself to refuse for the sake of his family’s happiness.

Neither of his brothers had had particularly safe marriages - Remy ran away with a doctor years ago and only really shows up on special occasions, and Roman, the heir, had married far beneath his station. They were both incredibly happy, but their parents were very unhappy at how their family had become a spectacle of recklessness and loss of any sense of tradition and status.

Patton was on their side of course - he wished he had the guts or sense of self to run away out West somewhere and find himself a cowboy to teach him how to rope cattle by the horns with a lasso, somewhere where he could feel the warmth of the sun and the thrill of a chase and every bit of romance. Still, his parents wanted at least one of their sons to marry at or above his station. He’d seen the desperation in their eyes when they’d proposed the arrangement with the Foster family. He couldn’t bear to think of them as unhappy. He hated to hear them talk of Remy as an outcast, to turn up their noses at Virgil, to mutter about how the Prince family’s reputation had been tarnished by the majority of their sons, but Roman and Remy didn’t particularly mind - they were both too happy and comfortable with themselves and their husbands to let any of their comments bother them. So in order to keep peace in the family and make his parents some fraction of as happy as his brothers were….

Glancing up to the side through his translucent shield, Patton trembled at the sight of his fiance’s profile. Sharp, clean, a steel composure, a blade of a man who seemed able to slice clean through stone simply by existing. One flick of the eye down at Patton was enough to force his gaze to the bouquet clutched in his fists, flowers as white as his suit, as his nervous knuckles. He felt every bit the lamb at the slaughter that he was sure he looked like.

“I do.” Patton closed his eyes against the tar of the man’s voice, the depth of tone making him shudder with fear. There was no kindness in that voice - it was an endless pit of sticky blackness that Patton was sure would swallow him whole and suffocate him.

“Patton Prince,” the priest turned to him, the address forcing Patton to lift his chin. He had to feign confidence even if he couldn’t muster the real thing. “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do.” Patton hated himself for being unable to get his voice above a mutter, for being unable to control his vocal chords enough to keep the words from cracking as he forced them from his lips. He knew in that moment that he wouldn’t be happy for a long time. He knew it when he felt Logan’s firm and lithe hands slide the golden shackle onto his finger, and when he did the same to him, connecting them with an invisible chain. He would learn to be something close to happy given enough time, and he would definitely be more content when he got to be with his family again - Roman and Remy could always make him smile, and Virgil was an incredibly comforting presence when he wasn’t tense or panicking.

For the moment, though, as the priest pronounced them husbands, Patton wanted nothing more than to run away, to sprint to the docks, get on the nearest boat, and to never look back.

“You may kiss.” Turning instinctively at a ninety-degree angle toward his fiance - his husband - Patton used every ounce of his strength to keep his chin up and to produce some sort of expression resembling a smile.

He hardly felt the hands grip his veil, the shield being removed to reveal his face to his spouse. Looking up, Patton searched the spectacled face staring down at him. Porcelain skin dusted dark under the eyes, features hardly softened by the change in perspective, an unwavering mouth and straight nose, onyx irides behind square glasses, and…

Pity?

Something behind those stone cold eyes shifted for half an instant, seeming to flash a silent apology as Logan looked down at Patton’s exposed features before resetting into their default unfeeling form.

Chancing a smile and a slight shrug up at Logan, Patton silently asked what he was waiting for. He flicked his eyes to the side to remind him that people were waiting.

Taking a step forward, Logan cupped Patton’s face in his hands, his fingers cold as ice and his touch as gentle as a feather. Patton wondered if he had in fact just been married to Death himself as Logan angled their heads so Patton was facing the corner behind the priest, away from his family. Logan leaned in, Patton closed his eyes, ready to seal the awful deal, and…

Their lips never touched.

Logan had made the church think that they had, though. The way they’d been angled, nobody could tell that Logan had pressed his lips to his own thumbs that were laid over Patton’s mouth, ensuring that they wouldn’t meet in the middle.

The church applauded as Logan pulled away, offering his elbow to Patton so they could walk back down the aisle together. Their family members and friends in the pews threw rice and white rose petals over them.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of just that. Applause and white. After signing the marriage certificate in an outer room of the church, they rode in a carriage to the Fosters’ house for the reception. Roman had helped to design everything, insisting that he could at least make that part of the experience pleasurable for Patton. As such, everything was exactly as Roman knew Patton to be. Soft, generally pastel in color, daisies and baby’s breath everywhere, everything perfect in a way that only Roman could pull off. Patton found himself smiling throughout the afternoon, being pulled from dance to dance with his parents, his brothers, with Virgil and Emile no matter how much his parents resented their presence, going between conversations with old friends that he hadn’t seen in years and with friends of those friends that Patton knew were bound to pop up, connecting his and Logan’s inner circles.

Logan spent most of his time hidden away, talking to older men about what Patton could only assume was something business related or something that he would find incredibly boring. He’d asked Logan only once about whether he would dance, only to get the response that he didn’t dance.

“Everybody dances,” Patton chuckled, trying to keep the mood light.

“Everybody can,” Logan sighed, turning his head out the window of the carriage. “Not everybody does.”

Patton had lowered his head, staring at his hands.

He did the same thing when Logan disappeared to talk to someone else after they’d cut their cake. All Patton could bring himself to do was wonder how he’d already messed this up, if this was what his life was going to be like…

What the hell had he gotten into?

Patton had hoped that things couldn’t get any worse. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t be physically able to feel sicker than he had when the priest had pronounced him married. He’d been able to keep his worse feelings at bay with the occasional flute of champagne for most of the afternoon.

That didn’t stop his stomach from turning to a block of lead when he found his mother half dragging him out to the car that was waiting to take him and Logan to some hotel somewhere to wait for their morning trip to - where was it Roman had said they were going? Someplace warm? - for their honeymoon.

Time sped up until they were walking into their hotel room what seemed like an instant after Patton had thrown his bouquet and one of the flower girls caught it. The room was furnished luxuriously - pristine white and blood red sheets, marble floors and walls, cherry wood furniture and gossamer curtains just barely holding the moonlight at bay. The champagne made the candlelight a bit brighter than it would be otherwise, but the room was still fairly dimly lit. Their bags had already been taken up to the room - Patton’s were piled in the corner of the room while Logan’s were, he assumed, in the adjoining dressing room. Patton swallowed hard, knowing from stories and rumors what was coming next.

Consummation.

“So,” Patton tried to smile, the word barely escaping his sandpaper throat.

“You should get some rest,” Logan advised, his voice a hint warmer than it had been before as he strolled across the floor toward the door to the dressing room. “You’ve had a long day. If you need anything or wish for company - though I doubt you’ll want any company like mine - I’ll be in here.”

“What,” Patton asked, causing Logan to pause as he gripped the doorknob. “Aren’t we supposed to… y’know?” Patton gestured at the bed. “I mean, that’s what married couples do on their first night together, right?”

“Not if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“Who says I’m uncomfortable?”

“Your expression, your body language, your voice, pretty much everything but your words.” The way Logan was reading him like a children’s book made Patton worried about what he would be able to see.

“But it’s what we’re supposed to… it’s tradition.”

“What we are and aren’t supposed to do based on the traditions that got us into this are irrelevant. I would never make someone like you do anything they aren’t perfectly comfortable with.”

“Is that why you didn’t kiss me? It’s perfectly consensual, this is what married couples do.” Patton could feel his smile wavering, but refused to let it fall.

“That might be what people who are in love do,” Logan sighed, his tired eyes flashing that same pity in Patton’s direction as his shoulders slumped forward a bit, “but you were forced into this. Besides, implied consent isn’t consent. I could feel you shaking, I could see the tears you were holding back in the carriage. I refuse to force anything else onto you, especially with something as intimate as kissing or taking you to bed.” Patton could only stare as Logan’s mouth flickered with the ghost of a reassuring smile.

“You’ve been forced into this just as much as I have,” Patton reasoned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You should be comfortable, too. You should be at least as happy as I am.” The way Logan chuckled at the comment - a simple exhale through his nose - and the way he shook his head at the ground before looking back to him, Patton knew that he saw straight through him.

“I do believe that we will be happy for each other one day, Mr. Prince, but it won’t be until you come to me with divorce papers in hand and your true love at your side ready to steal you away. Until that day, I hope that we can learn to be friends in these circumstances. Good night, Mr. Prince. Sleep well.”

“Wait-” Patton hadn’t meant to step forward, to call out to him as he moved to shut the door. What was he asking him to wait for? What was there to be said? “Could you… could you leave the door open? I don’t want to feel like I’m alone.” Another flash of a smile as Logan opened the door as far as it would go.

“As you wish,” he mused before turning into his dressing room.

As soon as he seemed to be gone, Patton turned on his heel, tugging at his hair and releasing a deep sigh. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he realized that he really wasn’t going to have to do it. Logan wasn’t gonna make him do it. He wasn’t going to make him do anything. He…

Patton had been expecting to cry himself to sleep one way or another. Of course, he’d expected it to be because of the knowledge that he was trapped with a stranger for the rest of his life, that he would be stuck with someone horrible. It had hardly crossed his mind that he would ever feel relieved, nor to experience any sort of emotional release because of his husband. He’d never imagined that his husband would be so kind, so gentle. He really wasn’t sure what to think of it beyond immediate relief that melted into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Patton woke to warmth, both in the sunlight that streaked from the windows and in the blankets drawn over him. He almost smiled at the feeling. The warmth was familiar, comfortable, and the sunlight was welcoming in his eyes. The dread set in when he remembered the events of the day before, but it didn’t linger long before fading into confusion.

Sitting up against the sheets, Patton’s senses reconnected with his memory and reasoning. He didn’t remember removing his tie, jacket, and shoes. He didn’t remember blowing out the candles or pulling the sheets over himself - he hardly remembered laying his head on the pillows. He’d just curled up on the mattress sobbing, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up.

Patton was so deep in thought that he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone knocked at the door.

“Mr. Foster,” a woman’s voice asked. “I have the breakfast you ordered.” Patton moved to get out of the bed, rubbing his face awake as best he could.

“I didn’t order-”

“Allow me.” Logan held up his hand for Patton to stay where he was, striding to the door. Opening it, he took the tray from the maid and thanked her for bringing it up. Having her pull the door closed, Logan took the tray to where Patton sat in the bed, setting it carefully in front of him. The tray held a plate of bacon, eggs, and potatoes, a small bowl of oatmeal with blueberries, a mug of coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a small vase with a single wildflower seated in it. “I hope you slept well, Mr. Prince.”

“What are you doing?” Looking up to Logan, Patton found his eyes dark and cold the way they had been the day before while they were at the altar, devoid of any of the warmth when they’d talked last night.

“Giving you breakfast,” Logan stated, his voice steel. “I hope what I ordered is-”

“No, what,” Patton sighed, exasperated, “what are you doing to me? You’re cold and distant all yesterday, then you’re the weirdest kind of warm, you say that you refuse to make me uncomfortable-”

“Have you ever been to the south of France? It’s always been a little too warm for my liking, but you seem like somebody who likes the sun, Mr. Prince.”

“Stop calling me that,” Patton ordered.

“What would you like me to call you other than your name?”

“It’s not my name! I changed my name yesterday, in case you don’t remember. I took on yours.”

“You didn’t take my name on,” Logan corrected. “It was forced on you.”

“That’s another thing,” Patton struggled to keep his voice under control as he got up out of the bed, careful not to jostle the tray into spilling. “I’m not the only one that this was forced on. You didn’t have a say in this, either.” Logan turned away, bringing his hand to his face. “Why are you so insistent on making me comfortable when you’re in a situation exactly as uncomfortable?”

“I can understand your frustration at the situation, and I understand your projection onto me, but-”

“I’m not asking for your understanding!” Patton reigned in his voice with a deep, shaking breath. “Just answer the question.”

“Because I’m not the one who was assigned the position of property,” Logan sighed, back still to Patton, his voice just as steady and collected as ever. “The way that the marriage was set up by our parents, the dynamic they set up based on money, the way they made you take on my name instead of the other way around, it’s all a roundabout way of them assigning you to me as my property.” Patton bit the inside of his cheek. He’d known that. He’d understood what he was signing himself over as when he’d agreed to go through with the arrangement.

“So?”

“So, you’re not. I refuse to treat you that way,” Logan reasoned, turning back to face Patton and opening his arms in a shrug. Patton’s eyes flicked between his exasperated eyes and the spot on his bottom lip that was a darker red than the rest, almost to the point of bleeding. “No person is a piece of property that can be passed around, and I am determined to not fall into any of the traps set up to make you feel that you are. I won’t call you by my name because it’s not a name, it’s a brand of ownership that was burned into you. You’re too good a person to have that…” Logan trailed off, running his fingers through his hair before returning his fingers to his lip. Patton sighed. He couldn’t understand how somebody so cold, someone with a voice with so little feeling behind the words, could speak so eloquently and with such understanding. “You should eat before it gets cold. Nobody likes cold eggs or lukewarm coffee. I’ll be in the next room if you need anything, Mr. Prince.”

“If you’re going to call me something,” Patton sighed before Logan reached the door, “make it Patton. We are married, after all, we might as well go ahead and be on familiar terms. Besides, Prince is my family’s name, not mine.” A flash of a smile and a nod. “And, um,” Patton struggled, “thank you. For last night. Not just for not forcing me into anything, but I can only assume that it was you that got my jacket and shoes off and tucked me in. That was kind of you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Logan nodded again, keeping his bloody lip in an almost perfect straight line as he stepped into the doorway. “Would you like me to keep the door open again, or would you like the privacy?” Patton sighed, accidentally smiling softly.

“Open for now, I think.” Logan nodded, disappearing into the next room.

Patton sighed, a slight growl rising in his throat. He hated this so much. He hated that Logan knew exactly what to say, that he was right, that nothing he said was what he expected to hear but it made perfect sense. He hated how steady he was, how his voice stayed level and quiet no matter how much Patton struggled to keep his temper under control. He hated that he’d managed to order Patton’s eggs exactly the way he liked them, that he seemed to know Patton without having known him more than thirty-six hours.

Sipping at the coffee that he’d drowned in the given sugar and cream, Patton knew that he wouldn’t last long with Logan. Not sanely. His isolation, his stubborn refusal to give any sort of emotion away, how superior he must feel because of the way he was taking the moral high ground… Patton wouldn’t be able to stand it.

He would have to.

~

“What’re you doing,” Patton asked, sitting next to Logan in their train car on their way to the hotel in France. Logan had a notebook in front of him, covered in scribbles and doodles that Patton wouldn’t have been able to make sense of without a guiding hand.

“Working on something. Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”

“Try me,” Patton smiled, sitting up a bit straighter. Logan raised an eyebrow, side-eyeing Patton before squaring his shoulders.

“I’m working with a pharmacist to make some treatments more effective, both in treating diseases and in production cost.”

“I didn’t know that you were interested in medicine.”

“I’m not, particularly. I’m a chemist. My partner in this project insisted that my help would be invaluable and the pay is generous, all things considered. Plus, if this works out, it could help the lower classes get treatments they need.” Patton chuckled, his smile tilting into a smirk.

“I’ve never heard of a gentleman with a profession, let alone something as intellectual as chemistry. Most of them just shoot and ride and make appearances. If they do have a profession, it’s either in the army or preaching.”

“I don’t know who told you I’m a gentleman, but they were lying.” Patton’s smile dropped at the comment. “I assume that means that neither of your brothers do anything?”

“Roman served in the army before coming home to manage his inheritance, and Remy works as a receptionist at Emile’s practice.”

“That’s right, your younger brother married a psychiatrist. That’s something I admire about your family,” Logan turned to smile at Patton. “You’re all grounded in reality, you live in the real world where most people in your position would live on a cloud above actual problems. At least, you and your brothers are like that. I can’t say the same for your parents.” Patton sighed at the comment, knowing that his parents were definitely on that cloud of superiority somewhere. If they weren’t, he wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Is your family like that? Grounded in the real world, I mean.”

“Hardly,” Logan scoffed. “My parents had everything handed to them their whole lives so they expect nothing less, and my brother is no different. It’s too bad; Dexter’s smart. He could make a great man of himself if he didn’t lower himself to the position of a card sharp. Still, he makes his money. Have you ever been to the south of France?” Patton had just opened his mouth to comment when Logan asked this.

“No.”

“I think you’ll like it,” he mused, looking back to his work. “We’ll be staying on the coast, so it will be all white sand and turquoise sea and warm sun. Someone like you would-”

“Why do you keep saying that,” Patton interjected, unsure why he suddenly lost control of the question. Logan hummed in confusion. “You keep saying ‘someone like me’ but you and I didn’t meet until yesterday. How can you say ‘someone like me’ when you have no idea what someone like me is like?” Logan gave him another look from the side, biting down on his lip.

“I thought he’d told you,” he muttered. “Though all things considered, I suppose-”

“Who? And what?” Patton bit his tongue, forcing himself to stay calm until he knew who had done what.

“Your brother-in-law, Virgil. He came to my door a little less than a week ago with a threat. He told me that if I ever did anything to hurt you, I would be more fiercely hunted than an escaped convict and probably wouldn’t live with the four of them on my tail. Them being your brothers and their husbands, of course.” Patton sighed, pressing his forehead into his palm. Of course Virgil would do that. For himself, he would hardly correct someone who made his coffee wrong. For Roman or Patton, he would get away with murder.

“Well, thanks for telling me, but that doesn’t answer-”

“In response to his threat,” Logan interjected steadily, “I asked him to tell me about you, citing that it would be much easier for me to take care of you - and therefore, keep myself in tact - if I knew about you. He spent close to an hour telling me about you, always returning to the same line of ‘he’s so damn sweet’. I got a good idea of your habits and temperament from him, though I thought that he was exaggerating, that he was biased because of your acceptance of him or the family dynamic between you two. He wasn’t exaggerating.”

Looking up from his hand, Patton tried to read Logan. He couldn’t get anything from his mechanical matter-of-fact tone, and unfortunately, his face wasn’t much different. Still staring down at his work, still scribbling in his miniscule scrawl, his profile cut cleanly against the flying countryside beyond the window. His fingers were at his lip again, picking at the chapped skin as the thought on his work. Patton hated him for being able to stay in such control, but something about what he was saying…

He shook his head to himself. Logan couldn’t be telling the truth - not the whole truth, anyway. He had to be trying to manipulate him, trying to be what Patton wanted so that the deal wouldn’t fall out. He’d already admitted that deception was present in his family. Why wouldn’t he fall into that same category of manipulation as his brother, just a social manipulator rather than a cheating gambler? He had to be, he was trying to manipulate Patton. He was saving his own skin from Patton’s brothers, he was convincing Patton that he would be content, he was making the circumstances most ideal for himself. That was the only explanation.

Patton promised himself that he wouldn’t be lulled into complacency. He would be happy if possible, but he would not be manipulated.


	3. Chapter 3

The honeymoon didn’t last long - only three days. Knowing that Logan had been the one to arrange it, Patton assumed that it had been kept short on purpose. Whether getting home quickly was done for the sake of Logan’s work with the pharmacist or for Patton to get back to his family, Patton wasn’t sure. He would probably never be sure.

In spite of everything, it was a pleasurable three days. Logan kept him at arm’s length, of course, but he’d led Patton through the area flawlessly. They spent a lot of their time on the beach, surrounded by other tourists and married couples on their honeymoons. Patton found himself making much more conversation with the strangers than with his husband, who preferred to find a shady spot where he could either work or read. There were dinners where they got to know each other a little better, though Logan never spoke of anything too personal - most of the conversation was restricted to questions about Patton and his brothers, stories about their childhood and how they’d met their husbands. There was a smile that Patton came to know when he told these stories, a drawn bow stretched between Logan’s ears that showed itself when Patton laughed in the middle of telling a story or joke. It seemed genuine enough, but there was always something off about it, about the way it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived, something that Patton couldn’t make out. He didn’t want to say that it looked like a learned behavior, but…

The more Patton talked about his family the more he longed for them - for the energy and laughter of Roman and Remy, for the quiet conversation and consolation of Virgil and Emile, for the warm comfort of a dinner with the four of them filled with stories and familiarity and everything he wanted.

There were a few moments when Patton thought that he could bring himself to almost enjoy Logan’s company, though. He did a lot more of the ordering breakfast in bed for him, he’d given him an ice cream while they were at the beach for no real reason, and he always asked if Patton if he wanted the door between their rooms open or closed. The morning of their departure, Logan had made a detour to a flower shop he’d spotted and bought a single white daisy, sticking it in Patton’s lapel before they continued on toward the station. It might have been sweet if he had said something, or even smiled.

The only thing that Patton figured out about Logan over their time together was that he had a dangerously intoxicating voice. Patton had asked him on more than one occasion of boredom or loneliness to read aloud from whatever book he was enthralled in. It was in these moments that Patton allowed himself to be weak, to let himself get lost in the story and in the voice as deep and haunting as the silent ocean in front of them. There was something completely different about the voice when it was reading from when it was speaking - there was inflection, some semblance of emotion. It churned and pulsed with the words instead of stagnating. Patton had to remind himself multiple times of his promise to not be manipulated by the owner of that voice.

Still, Patton found himself daydreaming about that voice, listening to it tell his favorite stories, hearing it sing, what it would sound like if it broke or whined…

Patton shook himself free of the thought before his mind wandered to anything too unsavory. He couldn’t allow himself to go there. If he did, he might never return. And what then?

“Patton,” Logan asked. Patton looked up from where he’d been sitting with his head in his hands. They’d just switched from the boat to another train that would take them home, the countryside flying in the direction opposite that of three days ago. Logan had been reading aloud, as per Patton’s request, since it was more neutral than them trying to make conversation and far less awkward than any silence between them.

“Hm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Patton assured, running his fingers through his hair to fix where he’d been pulling at it. “Yeah, just a bit of a headache, that’s all. Not too used to travelling, y’know.”

“I can stop if it would help. Silence would probably be more effective in-”

“No, no, keep going,” Patton assured, sitting up straight and leaning his head back. “If nothing else, you’re distracting from the train.” That much wasn’t a lie. Patton couldn’t currently bring himself to like trains - the way they jerk around, threatening to slam you into a window if you were sitting too close to one, the screech of iron against iron when they need to slow down or stop, that impossible howl of a whistle, the way the aisles aren’t small enough to be called cramped, but definitely small enough to make Patton uncomfortable. He could usually bring himself to enjoy some of the elements of a train, find a sort of beauty in the whistle or a respectable power in its very scope, but right now…

Right now Patton just wished that he could fly or teleport or just be home.

Luckily, Logan’s reading made the time go by just a bit faster than it would have without the aid. He’d been reading Doyle, the book a collection of his short stories. Patton couldn’t remember for sure, but he thought that Logan was at “The Five Orange Pips” now. The story in conjunction with the knowledge that he would soon be home, or somewhere close to it, that we would be with his brothers - Virgil who would dote and worry and glare at Logan, and Roman who would encourage and tease and also glare at Logan - made the time fly.

Well, maybe not fly, but at least it didn’t drag on for what seemed like forever.

Pulling up on the gravel driveway to Logan’s family house, Patton broke into an uncontainable grin when he saw Roman and Virgil rush from the front door, Roman waving madly and threatening to run out to the car before Virgil grabbed the collar of his jacket. Even though he was equally happy to see Patton back safe and sound, he retained his composure. Somebody had to, and that somebody was almost never Roman.

As soon as the car parked, Patton flew from his seat into Roman’s waiting arms. The warmth of the Mediterranean sun had been pleasant, there was no denying that, but his brother’s strong arms and relieved laughter held more warmth than the sun itself. Patton giggled into his brother’s shoulder as he spun him around, the world swirling around him until he thought his problems might disappear into the blur of colors.

“There, like I said,” Logan approached Virgil with his hands folded behind his back. “Safe and sound, just as I promised.”

“So far as we can see,” Virgil growled.

“Virgil,” Patton called over when Roman put him down. Holding out his arms and grinning, Virgil gratefully accepted his invitation into a hug, pressing his face into the crook of Patton’s neck.

“Are you okay,” Virgil asked into his shoulder. “Really, are you okay?”

“Of course, Virge. I’m fine. All in one piece.”

“But he wasn’t… he didn’t…”

“He was perfectly well-behaved,” Patton sighed. “And by the way, it might not have been necessary for you to threaten him.”

“It’s always necessary.” Patton giggled, pressing his face into Virgil’s hair before he pulled away.

At the same time Virgil pulled away from Patton, the car pulled out of the drive. Patton looked from the car to where Roman stood alone.

“He said he has some business in town,” Roman explained. “In the meantime, you can tell us everything. Come on.” Roman motioned the two of them inside, leading them inside to the library.

And they did just that. Patton told them everything. Everything that they’d done, everything they hadn’t, everything that Logan had said, everything.

“That’s,” Virgil started slowly after Patton finished, “different from what I expected. I mean-”

“But it’s still weird, right? It’s weird and worrying and-”

“Patton,” Roman interjected gently, “honestly everything that you’ve said so far is making him sound like a really great guy. Maybe you’re still just tense because of the circumstances.” Patton gave a look that only the two of them and Remy knew. A look of shadowed eyes and a lip curled into a sneer.

“What’s going to happen when he gets sick of being nice,” Patton asked, voice low. “What’s going to happen when he stops being the best version of himself? None of us know him yet, he could be a brute or a psycho or something. He admitted to his brother being a card sharp. Maybe deception runs in the blood. Am I tense? Absolutely. But go ahead and try to convince me that it’s unreasonable for me to stay on my guard.” Looking to each other, the two of them looked more worried than they had when they’d first heard about the arrangement.

“Well,” Roman finally conceded, “no, that’s not unreasonable.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Patton stood, spinning around and pulling at his hair, “I can’t believe you think I’m right. You never think I’m right, and if you think it then that must mean that I’m right and that he’s gonna turn up one day and be awful and I’m not gonna be able to get out of it-”

“Patton,” Virgil jumped to his feet, gripping Patton’s shoulders, “breathe. One way or another, it’ll be okay. You can always divorce, and if he won’t let you out of it, then you can come and stay with us. Okay? Nothing’s going to happen to you. We promise.” The two of them fell into another hug, Roman following close behind has he wrapped himself around the two smaller figures. The positioning was familiar - they usually ended up in some iteration of a group hug when one of them was down or after Virgil came down from a panic attack or when someone had really good news or really bad news… they ended up in group hugs a lot, now that he thought about it.

The rest of the afternoon was relatively quiet. Roman and Virgil showed Patton around the house, since he’d only ever been there for the wedding reception. It looked so different when it wasn’t covered in white and crowded to bursting with people and smelling of expensive food clashing with a hundred different perfumes. So much quieter, lonelier. A lot of the open bedrooms, they’d only peaked in to glance around. When they’d reached Patton’s, though, they’d stepped in to examine the walnut furniture and simple off-white bedding. Patton froze in place a bit longer than he should have when he saw the vase on one of the night stands, graced with a bouquet of daffodils and a sky blue bow tied around the neck of the vase. Patton couldn’t help but smile, tilting his head as he remembered his mother teaching him about flower meanings, how daffodils were meant to signify good fortune and new beginnings.

Sighing, he reminded himself to not be fooled by the gesture.

Logan arrived back at some point while they were exploring upstairs, silently taking a seat at his desk and continuing his work without so much as hinting at his presence. Patton was the first down, since Roman and Virgil were lagging behind, talking to one of the maids that they’d apparently made friends with. When Patton reached the library, Logan handed him a letter from his parents. Patton did his best to give a courteous smile as he took the letter, opening it to read.

“That reminds me,” Logan turned around in his chair to face Patton. “Where are your glasses?” Patton switched from squinting at the letter to squinting at Logan.

“What?”

“Your glasses. I thought you might have left them with your things, or maybe misplaced them. Do you have any-”

“I don’t have glasses,” Patton corrected, gaining a furrowed brow of confusion from Logan. “Why would you think I have glasses?”

“Because if my assessment is correct, you need them. Just now, when you were reading that letter, you were holding it an inch from your face. You’ve complained about headaches, too, you’re almost always squinting, and when I saw you writing a letter while we were away, you were hunched so far over your desk that I thought you might have fallen asleep.”

Patton’s heart rate jumped a bit. He’d never had to explain those things to anyone - nobody had really noticed them. His family all knew him as the person who would ask for help if he needed it, and who consequently never asked. He’d never wanted to bother his family by asking about going to an eye doctor to see if he needed them.

“I’ll call my ophthalmologist,” Logan informed, making a note on his desk, “and I’ll make you an appointment to get a prescription as soon as possible. I don’t want you to strain them anymore. If it hurts to read or write, please ask me or one of your brothers to do it for you. I’ll let you know when the appointment is as soon as I know.” Logan flashed that damned smile at Patton again before turning back to flip through his contacts to find the ophthalmologist. Patton swallowed hard, turning to go sit down just in time for Roman and Virgil to return to his side.

As they talked, Patton’s mind wandered to a story he’d heard about someone they’d known, a girl a few years older than Roman. She’d gotten married early to someone she didn’t really know, and she’d praised him for the first few months. Before she knew what had happened, she was completely dependent on him. He controlled her money, her health care, her appointments, he was so controlling that she had no way out of the hole by the time she realized what had happened.

Patton prayed that that wouldn’t happen to him. He swore that he wouldn’t let it.

In spite of that promise, Patton couldn’t help but grin madly two days later when Logan took him to Dr. Stokes and was given a pair of glasses that they were lucky enough to have in that matched his prescription. As they’d stepped out of the office, Patton released a heavy sigh, marveling through the round frames at what had previously been blurred smudges, exclaiming that “the trees have leaves” before turning and throwing his arms around Logan’s neck in a hug. His excitement had always been too powerful to be restrained by caution.


	4. Chapter 4

Roman and Virgil stayed as long as they could. The Foster house wasn’t far from their home, so it wasn’t like they’d abandoned their life in order to stay with Patton. Besides, Logan spent the week in town with his pharmacist, and they didn’t want Patton to have to transition from his old life to one of isolation so suddenly.

To be fair, Logan loosened up a lot when it wasn’t just him and Patton. He provided an intense intellectual opponent for Roman, who was always looking for a good argument. He seemed to be a kindred spirit to Virgil, allowing for comfortable silences that Virgil strived for without the threat of loneliness that worried Roman and Patton. Once he got started talking on a subject, it was near impossible to get him to stop, and he seemed to enjoy the routine that he and Patton had set up of finding time in the day for him to read aloud. It was usually a late night activity, after dinner, after Roman and Virgil went upstairs. That was how a lot of the time the two of them had together was spent.

Patton still warned himself against getting too attached to Logan. He reminded himself that there was no way the politeness would last, that one of these days his true colors would show and he would be an absolute beast and Patton wouldn’t be able to get away. Even as winter melted away and he found Logan talking to Virgil or racing Roman on horseback or chuckling quietly at one of his jokes, Patton forced himself not to soften. He kept himself distant as best he could.

There were some things that made that easier said than done.

The first was about a day before Roman and Virgil had to go home. Roman had held Logan in the dining room to talk while Patton and Virgil went through to the living room. Patton had assumed that Roman was giving Logan a talk similar to the one Virgil had given before the wedding, if a bit less threatening now that they seemed comfortable with him. They’d managed to find common ground earlier that night when they found that they had both joined the army before the draft went through, so they were at least on even ground on that score. When they came through to join their husbands after talking, Roman made a beeline for Patton while Logan strolled to take a seat next to Virgil.

“It would hurt his pride for me to tell you why,” Roman muttered to Patton, his voice shaken in a way that Patton didn’t recognize, “but be gentle with him. Promise me that you will.” Patton made the blind promise, knowing that Roman wouldn’t have asked that of him for no reason. Obviously, Logan had confided in Roman in a way that he hadn’t with anyone else. Patton hoped that one day he would be given a reason behind the promise, but for the moment he could only look to Logan’s granite form and wonder what could possibly have been revealed to make the mountain of a man seem so fragile to Roman.

The second was the afternoon that Roman and Virgil left for home. He’d followed them out to their car, standing just outside the front door as he watched them get in the car and drive away. He’d stayed out, staring down the drive made dull by the clouded sky, the air still crisp with winter though it wasn’t biting as harshly as it had a week ago. He had no idea how long he had been out there, only that the door behind him opened and a flannel blanket found its way around his shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold,” Logan had asked, leading Patton back inside. “I hope you didn’t catch anything.” Patton waited for an offhand comment about how his brothers would kill Logan if he caught something the minute they left, but it never came.

The third was one of the later evenings when they were up late. Logan was reading Doyle aloud again, this time “The Sign of Four”. Patton was sitting on the sofa next to Logan - rather than a separate chair, as he had before - and was staring into the dying fire. Logan had just started reading Watson’s description of his future wife when Patton felt his eyelids starting to blink heavily. One of those times he blinked, he opened his eyes to the gentle movement of someone carrying him upstairs. He didn’t see who it was until he saw the sharp profile against the moonlit window as he moved to take off Patton’s shoes after he’d set his glasses on the nightstand.

The last was recent, and after being preceded by the first two and multiple interactions that left Patton feeling warm and fuzzy inside, the third was the one that made Patton realize that he was going soft on Logan.

“We should get back,” Patton spoke up when he noticed the sun lowering in the sky. They’d decided to take a walk to celebrate the first day that felt like true Spring. “Your family’s going to be here any minute. It’d be rude to-”

“Look there,” Logan pointed beyond the bed lining the walkway before stepping just beyond the path. Patton followed him, looking beyond his figure to spot what he was looking at. Starting just before the treeline, the lush grass became speckled, then overcome with blue. “Bluebells,” Logan explained. “They bloom here every year just as soon as winter’s gone.” Looking up from the expanse of blue, Patton found Logan’s eyes glittering, a relaxed smile finally forming on his usually tensely composed face.

“They’re lovely,” Patton smiled gently. “My mother loved flowers. She used to take me and my brothers out into the garden and tell us all about the language of flowers, what every one of them means. She never told us about these, though - I guess because our gardener never used them.”

“If I’m remembering right, they mean humility and gratitude and,” Logan looked down at Patton, his voice coming to a screeching halt. Patton blinked up at him as Logan bit down on the inside of his cheek, the smile gone. A deep breath and Logan forced his shoulders to relax again, to think of something else. “And in Scotland, they’re called harebells based on legends of witches transforming into hares and hiding among them.”

“That’s lovely,” Patton replied, still tentative because of Logan’s unexpected pause and detour.

“Would you care to give a demonstration?”

“What?” Patton squinted up at Logan, who raised an eyebrow playfully down at him.

“You have some witch in you - at least I believe you do. The lines of your face, the stars you’ve captured in your eyes and on your skin, the shaped sunshine of your hair, yes I do believe you are at least part witch.” Patton scoffed at him.

“All right, then,” he conceded. 

Raising his hands in front of him to mimic a rabbit, Patton bounced across the grass, smiling at the sound of Logan’s chuckle. He switched from hopping to stepping carefully when he reached the bluebells, finding himself a spot to turn back around to Logan and crouch into the flowers, sitting back on his heels and leaning forward low enough that the foot-tall blossoms tickled his cheeks.

“Is it working?” Patton couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Logan’s smile - it was so different from his usual expression that Patton could hardly believe he was looking at Logan. His lips were drawn so tightly from one ear to the next that his pearl teeth would have been exposed if he wasn’t covering it with his hand, his eyes glittering even as he shook his head at Patton’s shenanigans.

“Well, you certainly look natural among them.”

Giggling as he stood, Patton plucked a few of the blossoms, placing the small bouquet in the buttonhole of Logan’s lapel when he returned to his side. Looking down at the small accessory, Logan took out one of the bigger blooms, reaching to gently position it behind Patton’s ear. His fingers lingered a bit on Patton’s cheek, only falling when he took a deep breath.

“What on earth am I going to do with you, Patton Prince?” Logan turned to start back toward the house, only to have Patton take his elbow in hand, sticking close to his side. He couldn’t tell if that sigh was annoyed or endearing, but in conjunction with the gesture, Patton’s interpretation fell closer to the latter.

Patton’s common sense screamed at him to be reasonable, to keep his guard up and not let Logan’s gestures lull him into a false sense of security. The screaming was muffled, though, by the lingering perfume of bluebells and the echo of laughter, by the way Logan’s weight leaned slightly into him as they walked, by he way that he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

“Patton Foster.”


	5. Chapter 5

By the time they got back up to the house, there was a car in the driveway and a man standing at the front door. He’d turned around to say something to the driver when he spotted Logan and Patton. The man removed his bowler hat, raising it in the air to wave to them like he was trying to flag down a ship. Logan returned the gesture with a simple wave. The man yelled something that Patton couldn’t make out, but that Logan groaned at.

“What was that,” Patton asked.

“‘Berry boy’,” Logan grunted. “It’s his nickname for me, has been since our mom brought home a batch of loganberries. He’s insufferable.” Patton couldn’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity of it when placed with the grim pillar that was Logan. Patton felt Logan smirk even as he turned away to cover his mouth. “Is that funny to you,” he teased.

“It’s just,” Patton giggled, “it seems so ridiculous up against you. That is, until you realize that it could be fitting. After all, loganberries have a reputation for being sour.”

“They’re tart, not sour,” Logan corrected.

“Tart is just a nice word for sour.”

“They can also be sweet if they’re given enough time. Dexter,” Logan stepped away from Patton to greet his brother, leaving Patton with a comment that left him confused but still smiling. “What poor sucker did you ruin in order to afford that car?”

“Would you believe me if I said I got it through smart investments?”

“Never.” Dexter laughed as he opened his arms, smacking his brother back as he hugged him.

“How long were you out walking?” Dexter’s voice seemed to soften, slightly worried as Logan muttered something into his ear. The worry didn’t last long after they released each other, though. “And who is this beauty you’ve got on your arm?” Dexter moved around Logan toward Patton, allowing each to get a good look at the other.

Dexter was just a bit shorter than Patton, and with the same lithe form as Logan. His dark hair was held under the bowler he’d returned to the crown of his head, and his eyes were almost the grey of a stormy sky, but with an unnervingly beautiful tint of green thrown in. He had a birthmark around his eye, a mark of red that looked like a faded wine stain on his skin and bled onto his forehead and cheek. There was a sense of theatricality to the way he moved, strutting around like he owned everything he saw - something that reminded Patton of Roman’s earlier years when false confidence ruled his movements - and a sliminess of voice that Patton attributed to the practice of lying and cheating.

“This can’t be Patton, can it,” he asked, addressing Logan while eyeing Patton in a way that made Patton feel like he needed a bath. “There’s no way he’d be in an arranged marriage to the likes of you. Those eyes and that face, you must’ve had your pick of the litter, didn’t you?” Dexter extended his gloved hand to Patton, who smiled and took it to shake, however tentatively.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.-” Patton cut himself off as Dexter twisted his hand and bent at the waist to kiss his knuckles.

“Enchanté,” Dexter mused, smirking up at Patton in a way that made Patton think that he should be blushing or flattered or something along those lines, but just made him uncomfortable.

“Dex, quit scaring Patton and go get yourself settled. Mom and Dad will be here soon.”

“And we can’t do anything that Dad wouldn’t approve of.”

“You know what he’s like,” Logan muttered as Dexter led the way into the house. Patton felt a pang of worry as Logan held his hand out to him, offering to walk him inside. The way that they were talking about their parents, Patton had to wonder just how bad they were.

He hadn’t actually met them yet. Not properly. They’d been at the wedding ceremony, but had left for a business venture a country away before the reception. He knew only what Logan had told him - that they expected no less than the best, and that it was hand delivered to them. He imagined that they would have the same factor of intimidation that he’d seen in Logan for the first few weeks that they’d been together, the grim composure and stern expression, the quiet isolation and looks that couldn’t be deciphered as judgmental or just curious.

“So,” Dexter mused as he strolled into the library where Patton was sitting, taking a spot on the sofa across from him. Logan was downstairs talking to the housekeeper about something, and Patton found himself folding in on himself a bit as Dexter revealed himself. He still wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with his presence yet. “You never answered my question. How did a catch like you end up arranged with my perpetually-has-a-stick-up-his-ass brother?”

“It was arranged, I thought that that was obvious.”

“Well, yeah, obviously it was arranged, but still. Like I said before, you seem like you could’ve had anybody you wanted. You’re family’s wealthy, not to mention you’re sweet and handsome and pretty much everything anybody could ask for. So why were you given away?” Patton bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that he wasn’t blushing at the compliment.

“Your brother said you’re smart,” Patton dared after clearing his throat. “Why can’t you use what you know and figure out why from that?” Dexter chuckled at the comment, his lips stretching in a way that was graceful enough to be off putting.

“Good to know he thinks I’m smart.” Bowing his head, Dexter leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers clasped in front of him. “I can guess why you did it by the look on your face the day it happened. I can also guess that you’re starting to warm up to him because of how you were clinging to his side earlier. I’m not surprised, he’s a great guy and you seem good at reading people. If I know Logan, though…”

“They’re coming down the drive,” Logan called into the library as he marched down the hall towards the front door. Dexter got up to follow him, but not before Patton caught his arm.

“What? If you know Logan, then what?”

“Come on!” Logan’s demand caught something in Dexter, causing him to pull himself and Patton out the front door to stand in a straight line next to Logan, Patton squished between the brothers.

Looking up at Logan, Patton recognized the locked jaw and far-off stare from the day they’d met at the altar. His shoulders were perfectly square, his hands wringing behind his back, his posture impeccable. Patton reminded himself that he had been in the army, but that was no reason for him to present himself like this to his parents. Turning his head, he found that Dexter was more or less mimicking Logan. Patton’s chest ached at the sight.

The ache tightened as the car came down the drive. Patton was probably imagining things, but it seemed like the car didn’t make any noise on the gravel. It seemed to float just above the ground, disturbing nothing as it came around in front of where they stood. The car was sleek and black, the engine nearly silent. When it stopped and the driver stepped out to open the door, Patton felt himself go pale.

Seeing the parents, it was obvious where each of the children came from. Their mother stepped out first, and Patton immediately saw a feminine Dexter. Petite, lithe almost to the point of scrawny, and perfectly grey eyes. She moved with an effortless grace, like she should have been dancing instead of stepping lightly. She went directly to Dexter, falling just shorter than him as she enclosed him in a hug, asking him how he was.

Their father was close behind, an immediate callback to Logan, but slightly off. Solemn, tall, though not as tall as Logan, his features sleek and sharp, though echoing with the lines of a sportsman. His grey hair was cleanly slicked back, and his eyes glowed with a quiet, watered-down green that rang of Dexter rather than Logan. He stepped firmly on the gravel, though it didn’t dare crunch under his feet as he stepped to Logan. Before saying anything, he stole the bluebells out of his buttonhole, dropping them to the ground.

“You’re listing,” he commented, his voice not particularly deep but dark and rumbling and intimidating in a way that Patton wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. Logan shifted his weight, standing up straighter so that the top of his father’s head fell at his nose. Logan said nothing, only staring out at the horizon over his father’s head. His father scoffed at the lack of response, turning to Patton.

“And you must be the husband,” he mused dangerously, sliding over to stand in front of Patton. Patton’s heart pounded as he raised his head to meet the man’s cold eyes. Taking a deep breath, Patton put on his best smile and held out his hand.

“Patton, sir. It’s nice to finally meet you.” The only thing that the introduction gained from the father was a slightly raised eyebrow.

“And it’s wonderful to finally meet you,” their mother intervened, taking Patton’s outstretched hand. “My name is Denise, and this is my husband, Henry.”

“Denise, let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.” The man marched into the house without another word. Patton turned to look after him, confused by his statement because the weather was actually quite warm.

“I’m sorry about him,” Denise muttered to Patton. “We’ve been where it’s hot and he’s never been the biggest fan of cooler weather, even when it’s warm by our standards.” She followed in her husband’s steps, brushing Logan’s arm as she passed.

“It’s not the weather,” Dexter whispered to Patton before any of the three of them moved. “He’s always like that.” Patton chanced a glance up at Logan, unnerved to find him still staring beyond what he could see, his teeth grinding quietly. Patton reached over, taking Logan’s hand in his.

The only response this got was a blink and a quiet, sighing ghost of a smile before Logan turned away, strolling back into the house after his parents.

“And that’s what happens to him when they get here,” Dexter sighed, pressing a hand into Patton’s back to lead both of them inside.

The rest of the afternoon wasn’t much different. Patton, Denise, and Dexter all seemed to have a silent pact to overwhelm the negativity brought on by the patriarch of the family with familiarity and positivity. It was fairly easy, given that he stayed with the three of them while Logan practically chained himself to his work in order to stay away from him. Still, every now and then there was an offhand comment from Henry that Patton knew was passive aggressively aimed at Logan.

Things came to a head at dinner.

“So, Patton,” Denise offered when the room got a little too quiet, “how are you getting on? After all, it can’t be easy switching lives in an instant.” Patton nodded, finishing off a bite of food before answering.

“It’s been smoother than I expected, I think,” Patton admitted. “I was hesitant at first, of course, but my family’s nearby, and your son has been so kind and-”

“I can hardly believe that.” Henry’s comment sliced through Patton’s positivity quicker than a guillotine. “He’s never been kind in his life. If he had been, he might have been a true gentleman. He would have hunted or kept himself whole enough to stay in the army, or he wouldn’t have had to be married off, he would’ve been able to find himself a suitable spouse on his own. But no, he works with that pharmacist like a common ruffian and reads his books instead of shooting and isn’t enough of a man to approach someone for himself.” Patton’s eyes flicked from face to face at the table as Henry spoke. Dexter and Denise both had their heads bowed, shifting their food around their plate soundlessly. Logan was completely still, his chin up and his shoulders square, staring at the space in front of him like he was trying to count the atoms in the air.

“Forgive me, sir, but we must see things in very different ways. I think it speaks well for him that he wants to work, and just because he’s an intellectual and quiet soul doesn’t mean he’s any less of a man.” Denise dropped her fork against her plate in shock at the sound of Patton’s calm rebuttal. Nobody said anything. Patton looked around, but everybody was just as they’d been before. Quiet, going through the motions as best they could with Henry’s influence puppeteering them.

“Of course you feel that way,” Henry finally answered. “You don’t know him yet. Dexter, I hear you went shooting with Fletcher last week.” Dexter followed that train of conversation, everybody relaxing slightly as the subject changed to Dexter coming up with a story on the fly. Looking across the table, Denise blinked thankfully to Patton.

Logan was still frozen in place. He hardly ate anything, hardly moved except to down his glass of wine after its periodic refilling.

Patton felt awful. The entire place still had an air of doom about it, an uncomfortable stillness in the air that had settled the moment Denise dropped her fork. Patton knew that it was his fault that the world had frozen, but he couldn’t help but wonder why defending Logan had come off as such a taboo thing to do. He couldn’t understand why disputing Henry was such a huge thing.

“Hey,” Patton pulled Logan aside as they left the dining room. “Are you okay? Things were pretty tense in there.”

“Of course, I am,” Logan assured flatly. “I’m going to have an early night. That walk wore me out.” Logan squeezed Patton’s hand shyly before starting upstairs, a slight lean in his step, bordering on a limp.

Patton watched him up the stairs for a moment before joining Dexter and Denise in the living room. The air didn’t get any more relaxed after separating Logan from Henry - Patton could feel Henry glowering at him every now and then, eyes burning into the back of his head in a way that made Patton almost wish that he’d never spoken up. He stood by his decision, though. He stood by it and was especially proud of it when Denise caught him as he was going to bed and thanked him for speaking up. She’d warned him against doing it again in the future in the same sentence, but Patton chose to focus on the positive.

He’d sighed when he saw the lamp of Logan’s light still on in his dressing room, but that was fairly normal for him. He always read before going to bed.

He’d gotten worried when he saw the light still on when he woke up to a clock chiming three-thirty in the morning.

“Logan,” Patton asked, standing in the doorway to Logan’s dressing room, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Logan was seated in the cushy black chair positioned in the corner by the window, reading a heavy leather bound book by lamplight. On the table next to the lamp was a bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass, amber liquid still gracing the bottom of the glass. He was still mostly dressed - his button-down still tucked into his dress pants, buttons undone from the third button up and sleeves rolled to his elbows. Strands of hair fell in front of his glasses, a telltale sign that he’d been running his fingers through it. One of his legs was propped up on an ottoman while the other bounced frantically. The shadows around his eyes were darker than Patton had ever seen them, and his shoulders refused to slope naturally, instead remaining firmly square. Patton had never seen him less uptight or more tense.

As soon as he saw Patton, he sat up, closing the book on his thumb and leaning forward.

“I didn’t wake you, did I? I can close the door to dim the light, if you like.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Patton insisted, stepping closer into the lamplight. “Are you okay? You don’t usually stay up like this.”

“I just can’t seem to sleep. It’s all right, don’t worry about it. Go back to bed.” Patton sighed, pursing his lips slightly at Logan’s dismissal. Patton being Patton, though, he wasn’t about to leave Logan to stay awake on his own. “What’re you-” Logan almost yelped when Patton nestled himself in the chair beside Logan, the chair just barely big enough to fit both of them when Patton positioned himself on his side. Nestling close to Logan so his head rested on his shoulder, Patton found it more comfortable than he’d expected.

“Read to me,” Patton insisted. “It helps you relax.” Logan sighed, pulling his arm out from under where Patton had landed to rest it on the arm of the chair, unintentionally pulling Patton closer.

“It’s not Doyle. It’s not even a story.”

“I don’t care.” Logan sighed at Patton’s insistence. Logan might’ve had a strong will, but Patton could be perfectly bull-headed when it came to taking care of somebody. Looking back to the pages in his hand, Logan took a breath before reciting the familiar lines aloud.

“Remind me not, remind me not,/ Of those belov’d, those vanished hours,/ When all my soul was given to thee;/ Hours that may never be forgot,/ Till Time unnerves our vital powers,/ And thou and I shall cease to be.” Patton sighed contentedly, settling into Logan’s side as he read out the lines with a musicality that Patton had never heard from him before. He’d never imagined that Logan would be one for poetry, but he was glad of it. “Can I forget - canst thou forget,/ When playing with thy golden hair,/ How quickly thy fluttering heart did move?/ Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet,/ With eyes so languid, breast so fair,/ And lips, though silent, breathing love.”

It didn’t take long for Patton to fall back asleep. Between the comfortable warmth of being so close to Logan, the tranquil words woven with the voice that he adored, and the fact that he’d been half asleep when he’d wandered into the room, it took almost no time for his breathing to slow and his body to slump into Logan’s.

Logan stopped reading fairly soon after he was sure that Patton was asleep, setting the heavy book on the table next to the lamp. Shifting himself a bit, he wondered if he could get Patton back to his bed without waking him. Given the way that Patton shifted closer, pulling him back when he tried to move, Logan knew that that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, he elected to turn off the lamp and let Patton sleep. He shivered against Patton’s presence, not having realized how cold he was until he had Patton’s radiating warmth for reference.

It was probably the whiskey - Logan told himself it was the whiskey - that made him pull Patton closer, that made him press his face into his hair, bring his other arm around to fully embrace him. It was probably the whiskey that made Patton’s words ring in Logan’s ears - he’s been so kind… I think it speaks well of him… - the first person in the world to dare contradict his father. So stupid, so reckless…

So damn sweet, so damn brave.

Squeezing Patton ever closer, burying his face in his hair, Logan felt a stray tear slip down his cheeks. He prayed that there was some way to stop time so he could just hold Patton like that forever, so they didn’t have to separate. He wished so desperately that he was worthy of this angel’s presence, that he didn’t have to give him up so that Patton had a chance at happiness. There had to be a way that he could give him everything that he deserved, a way that he could make him happy…

He knew that that was the just whiskey talking. That could never happen.


	6. Chapter 6

Patton’s father always told him that things would turn out brighter in the morning when something was wrong. He was almost always the one who would find him when he was crying for almost no reason, who would console him when the storm clouds in his head got a little too thick. That line became Patton’s mantra for when the depression hit a little too hard or when things beyond his control took a turn for the worse. “Everything will turn out brighter in the morning.”

Waking up in Logan’s arms made Patton think that maybe - just maybe - things would be brighter than they had been the night before.

That feeling didn’t last long.

The sky was grey and heavy with clouds, but it refused to rain. The air was thick enough to slice through, and almost everyone was silent the majority of the morning. Patton managed to get himself to laugh when he and Dexter got talking, his comfort growing with his brother in law. Their silent alliance to help Denise keep the peace alive and the mood relatively light made it much easier for them to get along.

Early in the day, Patton asked Logan to take him on a tour of the town, partially because he hadn’t gotten a chance to explore it yet and partly to get Logan out of the tense air of his home. Logan obliged, of course, but in the way that was completely devoid of emotion.

Logan stayed tense throughout their walk through the town until they happened by the university and ran into Logan’s pharmacist friend.

Logan’s face brightened a bit when he heard Brian call his name, smiling through the exasperation of explaining to him that it was Saturday and the university lab was closed, that’s why he couldn’t get the door open. Patton gathered quickly that Brian had trouble keeping track of what day and time it was, the messy pile of papers nearly falling out of his arms a clear sign of a fellow scatterbrain. In spite of the slightly disheveled presentation and confusion at Logan’s explanation that no, it isn’t Friday, Brian’s voice hinted at a calm and intellectual disposition that seemed to work in perfect sync with Logan’s. In Patton’s mind, Brian came around to generally being like Logan, but slightly less.

Brian didn’t stay focused on Logan, though. His eyes had locked on Patton almost as soon as he’d caught them. He’d asked Logan for an introduction before asking about anything else, shaking Patton’s hand with a stutter that Patton couldn’t make out. As the three of them talked, his attention faltered from Logan, eyes drifting to where Patton stood smiling quietly, hand running through his hair in an attempt to brush back the parts that stuck out sloppily, straightening his collar one time too many. Patton couldn’t help but grin a bit wider at the implication of his discomfort.

When they parted, he bid Logan goodbye until Monday, and told Patton that it was “great, really really wonderful to meet you.” Patton couldn’t help but giggle at the way he said it, like Patton’s very presence flustered him.

“Somebody’s got a crush,” Logan mused once he was sure they were out of earshot. Patton shook his head.

“Don’t tease him,” Patton warned gently. “It might come off as a sign of jealousy. Besides, he seems like a nice guy, and you have to keep working with him.”

“He is a nice guy, and I’m not jealous. Actually, I’m wondering if he might be your ticket to freedom. He’s clearly interested, and I don’t see why you two wouldn’t-”

“I thought that you were done with that line of thinking,” Patton sighed, smile fading only slightly in annoyance. That was the one thing so far that irritated him to no end about Logan. Once he had his mind made up about the way something was going to turn out, there was no way anybody could get him to budge.

“You can’t say that he’s not accomplished. He’s kind, smart, fairly handsome. I can vouch for his character in every-”

“Logan.” Patton’s voice was just stern enough to make Logan stop talking. “If you’re going to talk about Brian, tell me about the work that you two are doing. Explain the chemistry to me.” Logan huffed a laugh, taking a moment to find a starting place. Once he’d found it, he didn’t stop talking. He went on and on about elements and naturally occurring substances that Patton had never heard of, about essences and concentrates and herbs, newly discovered chemicals and concoctions, possibilities for poisons and venoms, endless opportunities for progress and discovery. Patton honestly had no idea what he was talking about half the time, but he seemed happy and passionate and he wasn’t frozen in place or staring at nothing.

As they were approaching the house, Patton noticed that Logan’s steps were listing again, like he was trying to keep himself from limping. Patton had no idea what was up with his leg - maybe some sort of arthritis or old injury that never healed right - but he knew that he was going to stay either at his desk working or in a chair reading, and that he had no problem with that.

“Logan, Patton,” Dexter greeted them, opening the front door just as they were approaching it. Denise and Henry were just behind him. “We were just going for a walk. I’d ask you to join us, but you look tired.”

“Not too tired to join his family, surely,” Henry mused, passively daring Logan to deny him. “Come on, we’ll keep it short.”

“Actually, sir,” Patton started, looking between Henry’s dismissive iciness, Dexter’s knowing concern, and Logan’s set jaw as he stood up a bit straighter. He didn’t get a chance to finish, as everyone was already walking away, following Henry down the path. Sharing a worried look with Dexter, Patton jogged up to where Logan was, grabbing his arm and positioning himself slightly under his arm to act as extra support.

He was right to.

They’d hardly been walking a quarter of an hour when Logan’s leg completely gave out, his weight falling almost completely onto Patton. Patton was lucky enough to have a firm enough footing to not collapse under the weight, holding Logan up as best he could. He didn’t bother asking what was wrong - there was no time to ask. Logan worked to keep a control on himself, refusing to wince in pain but his features still contorting because of it. Patton tried to turn him around, to start helping him back to the house, but Logan’s stubborn pride wouldn’t let him. He tried to lift himself off of Patton, tried to take another step, just to fall back onto Patton’s stability.

“Dexter, come here and help me get him back to the house,” Patton requested gently.

“Oh, please,” Henry groaned. “He’s just being dramatic. He’s always been a little more sensitive to pain than most. Let’s just keep going. He’ll quit-”

“Dexter,” Patton asked, cutting off Henry in the softest way possible. “Please.” Looking between his parents and Patton, Dexter winced to himself as he resolved to put Logan’s other arm around his shoulders.

“Patton, he’s right, I’m fine,” Logan insisted through gritted teeth.

“Of course you’re fine,” Patton sighed. “Now come on, we’re getting you home.”

“I said,” Henry reasserted, his words punctuated with frustration, “let’s keep walking.”

“I heard you,” Patton called back over his shoulder. “Don’t let us stop you.” Patton kept moving, even as Dexter struggled to keep up. He wasn’t sure if ignoring Henry was the best thing he could have done - he had no idea how he would react - but it was better than instigating him.

It was a little more awkward to help Logan back given how much taller he was than either of them, but Patton didn’t care. The switch in his mind had been flipped, he was in Dad mode and needed to take care of the boy leaning on him, hobbling with his help. He would ask Dexter what had happened if Logan didn’t let him look at it.

“Okay, here we go,” Patton grunted as he and Dexter helped Logan over to one of the loungers, his grunts and groans of pain no longer being restrained. Turning around, Patton pushed an ottoman in front of Logan, remembering how he’d found him the night before. “Let’s get you propped up, huh?” Noticing the way Logan had to grab his leg by the calf in order to prop it up, Patton wondered what could have happened to make it numb enough that he couldn’t move it on its own.

As he set it down, the leg of his pants ran up enough that Patton caught a glimpse of what looked to be polished wood.

Patton’s mind rewound as he unintentionally stared at the prosthetic. The listing and slight limp made sense, the way that he spent most of his time stationary, the way that Roman had warned Patton to be gentle with him after they’d learned that he was in the army…

“Pat,” Dexter called, snapping Patton from the trance he’d accidentally slipped into. As he stepped over to where Dexter was waiting, Patton looked back to find Logan hanging his head in shame. He shook his head slightly before turning back to Dexter. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve been trying to get him to get a cane or something, but he’s so stubborn.”

“Don’t worry about it, I get it,” Patton tried to smile.

“I don’t blame you if you want to see about getting out of this whole mess. Nobody wants to grow old knowing that they’re going to spend their time as a nurse.” Patton blinked at Dexter’s comment.

“Ye of little faith,” Patton muttered. “Just tell me one thing. Is this the reason he’s so, you know,” Patton gestured with his hands, trying to come up with the words, “self-critical?” Dexter shook his head.

“No, that would be because of the other part of this mess.” The jerk of his head towards the front door confirmed Patton’s suspicions as to what he was talking about. Patton nodded.

“All right,” Patton smiled. “Well, thanks for helping me get him up here. Is there anything else I should know?” Another slight shake of the head.

“Dad’s not gonna be happy,” he muttered.

“Well, he’s going to have to deal with it the same way we’ve all been dealing with him.” Patton patted Dexter on the shoulder before turning back to tend to Logan. “I should’ve been more insistent earlier when I was trying to say we were too worn out for a walk.” Logan huffed a bitter chuckle, still avoiding eye contact. “Do you have some sort of pain killers, or something?”

“Unless you count the liquor cabinet downstairs, no.” Patton pursed his lips at Logan’s comment. “What’s with that face?” Logan had only looked up long enough to see the face before hiding his face again.

“Well, honestly,” Patton practically laughed, resting his hands on his hips, “I’m frustrated that your stubbornness and pride has been keeping you from listening to your better judgement and taking care of yourself. I guess that that’s going to be my job from now on.”

“What’s going to be your job,” Logan called over his shoulder as Patton grabbed their book from Logan’s desk.

“Being your better judgement, making sure you take care of yourself.” Patton handed Logan the book before settling into the seat next to him, shifting himself close enough that their arms brushed together. “And tomorrow, I’m going into town and I’m going to get you a cane. You got me glasses when I said I didn’t need them,” Patton raised a silencing hand when Logan opened his mouth to argue, “so I’m getting you a cane whether you say you need it or not.” Logan sighed, hanging his head low again, staring down at the cover of the book.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just cut and run? I’m pretty sure Brian would accept you in a heartbeat.” Patton rolled his eyes.

“It’s going to take more than that to get rid of me.”

“And you call me stubborn.” Giggling at the comment, Patton nudged Logan’s shoulder with his own as he opened the book to where they’d last left off. Logan let his laughter wear out before he started reading.

Patton could feel that he was still tense, but that was why he’d gotten the book. Reading took his worries away, made him forget about everything - his father, his leg, his work - until it was just him and Patton and the story.

Logan couldn’t help but smile every time he chanced a look down at Patton, who had leaned his head back against Logan’s shoulder and closed his eyes. A more calming, stabilizing presence had never existed.


	7. Chapter 7

Patton got up early the next morning to walk into town. He’d always been one to get up earlier than most - of course, he’d only ever really had his insomniac brothers to compare to, but that didn’t change that he was one of the only people he knew that could manage to find joy in mornings. Sunrises colored quietly with baby blue skies and pastel pink clouds sweet enough that he could almost taste sugar, light not hesitating to step in as night ended its shift. Birds greeted the day, their melodic solos melding seamlessly with the steady chant of night’s remaining choir of crickets. The air was cleansed of the previous day’s madness, easier to breathe in a way, and the ground was washed with dew. Most everybody he passed was quiet - whether it was because they disliked mornings or they were enjoying the quiet the way he was, he couldn’t quite tell and he didn’t quite care.  
Patton remembered going by the shop the day before on their walk through town - Logan had briefly praised it as one of the best places to get tailor-made suits in the country just before they’d run into Brian. That would probably be the best place to get a suitable cane.  
The manager - who was either more of a morning person than Patton or had already had four cups of coffee - almost immediately latched himself onto Patton in an attempt to help him find what he was looking for. Obviously the entrepreneurial type, he didn’t seem to hear anything that Patton said about just wanting something simple. He tried to give him a cherry wood stick with gold filigree throughout, a rosewood one with floral carving all the way down, one with a detailed gold handle shaped into the head of a snake that Patton couldn’t help but think that, if it had more of a smile and its tongue sticking out, it might look like Dexter. For every cane that Patton didn’t immediately shoot down, the guy tried to shove a hat and a pair of shoes into his arms.  
The barrage didn’t stop until Patton spotted an option that hadn’t been presented. A sleek black stick that led to a simple ivory knob handle, finishing the line of the cane cleanly. On closer inspection, Patton found bluebells softly carved into the ivory. The sight made Patton smile, knowing that this was the one. It was the cheapest one in the store, somehow, and Patton knew that Logan would appreciate that if not the minimalist clean lines and exquisite carving.  
The world was washed in pure daylight by the time Patton was strolling back up the drive to the house.  
He was surprised but not disappointed to see Dexter lifting familiar bags onto the roof and back of a familiar black car, Denise and Henry standing by. As Patton approached, he caught Denise’s eye. She met him halfway, explaining to him that they’d been called away by friends and partners of Henry’s for a few months. Patton did his best to hide the relief in his eyes at Henry’s departure and the worry for Denise being alone with him, but he’d always been bad at hiding his feelings. Henry called her back to the car, Patton following close behind.  
“It was nice to meet you, sir,” Patton grinned, holding out his hand to shake Henry’s. Henry only stared Patton down, knowing that the smile was passive aggressive.  
“I wondered when I met you why your parents were so desperate to give you away,” he bit, his voice every silent killer to ever exist. “Now I don’t.” Patton took a deep breath against his faltering smile, forcing it to stay wide and pleasant and polite. He knew in the back of his head that the words would come back to haunt him - his mind loved to torture him like that - but he couldn’t allow himself to waver.  
“Stay safe on your travels. Wouldn’t want the first time we meet to also be the last.” Reaching forward, Patton grabbed the man’s skeletal hand and shook it, gripping tightly enough that if the message hadn’t gotten through to him yet, it would now.  
Releasing Henry’s hand, Patton kept his smile on as the two of them got in the car, waving after them down the drive until they were more or less gone.  
“You are, quite honestly,” Dexter muttered as Patton finished waving the car away, “more of a man than I could ever be.” Patton chuckled at the comment.  
“I doubt that, but okay.” The two of them started back into the house, Patton returning his focus to the long rectangular box tucked under his arm.  
“No, seriously,” Dexter insisted, “you’re wonderful. If you weren’t chained to Logan’s side, I might try to have you at mine.” Patton wasn’t sure what to make of that comment, so he chuckled.  
“Well, he won’t try to stop you from trying to take me,” he sighed after a moment. “He’s still convinced that I’m going to try and cut and run.”  
“And you’re not?” Patton shrugged.  
“Let’s just… let’s just say for the moment,” he couldn’t think of how to phrase it right, “I don’t think that we should end a deal that seems to be…” he gestured generally with his hand, “beneficial to both parties. At least, not without good reason, you know? So, for now…” A laugh escaped from low in Dexter’s throat.  
“Remind me to teach you how to lie one of these days.” Dexter’s hand brushed the middle of Patton’s back, pushing him closer to the door to the library. “Now go give your boy your present.”  
“It’s not a-” Patton cut himself off when he saw that Dexter was already halfway up the stairs, sighing at the echo of his quiet laughter. Stepping into the library, Patton felt himself smile at the way the sunlight flooded into the room, a beam landing perfectly on Logan from the window behind his desk. The light reflected slightly off his glasses, bounced off of his hair to reveal natural hints of red in the dark brown. His lip was even redder - he’d been picking at it again. Patton swallowed against the pounding of his heart in his throat, wondering why it felt so weird to walk all of a sudden, why it felt like his knees couldn’t quite hold him up.  
“Oh, good,” Logan said, looking over his shoulder from where he sat at his desk. “You got a letter from Virgil.” Logan held the envelope out to Patton from where he sat. Patton smiled at the envelope as he took it. Hearing from Virgil always seemed to center things.  
“It’s probably an invitation to Roman’s birthday party. We always make a big thing of it because - well, because it’s Roman. He might be asking for some extra help with preparations. But first,” Patton stuck the letter in his back pocket, setting the long box on the desk in front of Logan.  
“You didn’t,” Logan sighed, side-eyeing Patton with a slight frown.  
“Like I said, you got me something that I needed, and I’m returning the favor. Now come on, open it!” Logan sighed, running his hand over the box.  
“Tell me you didn’t actually get it from there,” he groaned quietly. “They’re so overpriced and extravagant with things that-” Logan froze once the lid was removed, staring down at the cane. Patton raised his hands, clasping them in front of his chest and bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Logan lifted the cane from the box, examining it carefully, stopping for a long moment to run his fingers over the ivory bluebells.  
“Well,” Patton asked quietly.  
“You really shouldn’t have.” Logan stood, testing the height and durability of the cane. It was perfect in every way.  
“You can keep saying that, but it won’t change anything. There’s nothing you cane do about it now.” Patton smiled, tapping the cane lightly with his finger. The way that Logan could only screw his eyes shut and sigh made Patton giggle.  
“In all seriousness,” Logan brought himself back after momentarily ascending from reality because of how bad Patton’s wordplay was, “thank you. I really don’t know what to say.”  
“There’s nothing to say. My gift to you.” Patton started to turn away, reaching for the letter in his pocket.  
“Patton?” Turning back to Logan, Patton noticed that his head was slightly bowed, his fingers at his lip, scraping at the skin again. “Would you mind if… that is, would you be comfortable…” looking up to meet Patton’s eyes, Logan exhaled sharply, before opening his arm, a gesture that Patton recognized from the first time that Virgil had asked for a hug. Smiling softly, he wrapped his arms around Logan’s middle, pressing himself close as Logan’s arm pulled around his shoulders.  
He hadn’t expected the embrace to be so warm, for Logan to hold him so tightly. He hadn’t expected for it to be so comfortable - he’d hugged Logan once or twice before, but it was never like this. Logan had never hugged him back, arm braced around his shoulders and cheek pressed into his hair. He hadn’t expected to inhale deeply and find himself intoxicated with the scent of coffee and ink embedded in his jacket, along with something that he didn’t quite recognize as anything but Logan. He hadn’t expected to adore the feeling of Logan turning his head, pressing his face into his hair.  
“Thanks,” Logan started to pull away. “I should- woah, are you okay?” Patton blinked up, realizing only then that his cheeks were lined with tear tracks.  
“Yeah,” he assured, wiping his face with his palm. “Yeah, I just… I guess I’m used to being around Roman. He’s all hugs all the time, and I guess… I guess I just didn’t realize how much I missed it.”  
“Well,” Logan swiped another tear from Patton’s cheek with his thumb, “if you ever want… you know… more, just let me know. That’s what partners are for, right?” Logan’s struggle to string the words together made Patton giggle.  
“Yeah.” Logan smiled softly, hand lingering at Patton’s cheek after wiping the tear away.  
“I, um,” Logan cleared his throat after a moment too long, “I should get back to work.” Patton nodded quietly.  
Before Logan had the chance to get away, Patton relinquished a bit of his control. Reaching up, he cupped Logan’s face in his palm, pressing his lips to his cheek. Grinning at Logan’s stunned blinking, Patton left him to his work.  
Patton had no idea where he’d gotten the confidence to do that. He had no idea why he’d done it, he couldn’t reason in his head why or how he’d lost control of the urge. He had no idea why, as he held Virgil’s letter, he could still feel Logan’s cheek in his hand. He couldn’t figure out why he could still feel Logan’s arm around him, embracing him, and his thumb brushing lightly at his cheek to rid it of a tear. He couldn’t understand why every time he blinked, he saw those glittering onyx eyes and that uncertain but beautiful smile.  
He wasn’t about to complain, though. He didn’t need to understand the feelings in order to enjoy them.


	8. Chapter 8

Patton drove down to his parent’s house to meet Virgil and Roman that Wednesday. Logan said that he would get down to the house as quickly as possible, but that he had to work with Brian all day. Patton had smiled and nodded, hoping that Logan couldn’t tell just how much his heart was aching with worry. He’d been so distant since Patton had lost control of his impulses the other day. It helped that he spent every moment in town working with Brian, that was a reason that made sense, but it didn’t make sense when he said that he’d spent a few extra hours working with Brian, not coming home until after dinner and going straight to bed. Patton was horrified that it was his fault - he knew it was his fault, that he’d gone too far the other day when he’d tried to cross that border with Logan, and it hurt.

He definitely hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. The kind of hurt that’s too desperate and confusing and hopeful to even be defined as traditional pain, that’s too widespread to be stabbing and too acute to be an ache and not physical enough to be comparable to any kind of pain - or whatever this was - that he’d felt before. A metaphysical windburn that comes from falling down a hole that seems to have no bottom, no end to the thoughts that skewer and slice at him as he continues falling… the kind of hurt that can’t be put into words. 

Watching Logan strolling down the drive on his way to town while Patton and Dexter loaded the car, a third footstep on the gravel as his cane hit the ground, Patton couldn’t help but smile sadly to himself. Their goodbye had been brief - more of a ‘see you soon’ than a ‘goodbye’ - and Patton had wished that he’d given him a hug before he’d turned and started away. He wished that he’d said something to try and make him stay a bit longer. Logan had a schedule to keep, though, Patton understood that. 

Still…

_ I wondered when I met you why your parents were so desperate to get rid of you. Now I don’t. _

“Don’t worry about Logan,” Dexter said as they pulled out of the driveway on their way to Roman and Virgil’s house. Patton hummed in response, having not quite caught what Dexter said. “He’s emotionally constipated to the point of bursting and he doesn’t know how to handle how he feels for you without running away. It’s not your fault. You don’t need to overthink it.”

“I know,” Patton grinned. “I’m fine, I’m not over-”

“Patton, I lie for a living,” Dexter warned. “Don’t try to lie to me unless you want the truth thrown back in your face like a brick.” Patton almost smiled at the warning, now unable to see Dexter as any sort of threatening. Still, he had to admit that he was an expert at reading people, or him at least. Turning away silently, Patton hoped that he wasn’t actually some sort of mind reader. If he could hear what was going on in his head…

_ So desperate to get rid of you. _

_ He’s desperate to get away from you. You scared him off, you read him wrong and now he’ll never feel the same way because you tried to move too fast and why would he feel the same way anyway? He’s been desperate to stay away from you from the beginning. _

Patton perked up when he saw the familiar pattern of trees lining the drive. He remembered running among those trees, gripping Remy’s hand tightly as they followed Roman through the “enchanted forest” on a quest to defeat whatever imaginary evil he’d made up that day. He remembered watching intently as their mother tended to Roman’s cuts and scrapes when they popped up, learning how to bandage wounds through observation. He could still feel the faint ache in his arms as he carried a perpetually exhausted Remy through the trees, rolling his eyes and smiling every time Remy insisted that he wasn’t tired and wanted to be part of the adventure. To this day, picking Remy up and carrying him to bed when he refused to admit that he was tired was more or less a routine for Patton. 

Patton grinned when they reached the house and saw Virgil and Roman standing outside. For a little while, at least, he could forget his problems. He could be somewhere familiar with people that he loved and that he was sure cared about him.

“Welcome home,” Roman cheered as he scooped Patton up almost as soon as he was out of the car. Patton giggled as Roman swung him around, only setting him down when he started to get dizzy. Patton had always loved Roman’s hugs, the way that he’d never grown out of glomping even though almost everyone told him that it wasn’t proper or manly. His response was always, ‘I’m a man, therefore whatever I do is manly.’

“Good to have you back,” Virgil smiled as Patton stumbled over to hug him. Virgil had always been more tentative about hugs, but once Patton got one out of him, they were some of his favorites. Warm and gentle and reserved but not so much that Patton felt unwelcome. “Where’s Logan? Who’s this?” Patton released Virgil to look back at where Dexter was working on getting their bags off the back of the car.

“Logan’s working, he said he’d be here as soon as he can. This is his brother, Dexter.” Patton strolled to Dexter, throwing his arm around his shoulders and guiding him to where Roman and Virgil stood. Virgil kept on a relatively polite smile, trying to be nice for Patton’s sake in spite of knowing his profession as a card sharp. Roman didn’t even try to hide the shocked recognition in his face. Dexter chuckled at the face.

“Nice to meet you, Virgil.” Dexter smirked up at Roman’s sneer. “Roman. Long time no see.”

“Wait, you two know each other,” Patton asked.

“We met a while back,” Roman grumbled, “and he cheated me at cards. Won everything I had on me, and won’t admit that he cheated, let alone give me back what he stole.”

“Can you prove that I cheated? Maybe you’re just that bad at cards.” Dexter winked, taking up his bags and started into the house. Roman grumbled something to himself about not wanting to be under the same roof as someone like him.

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice, do you,” Patton asked, following Dexter inside, the other two trailing behind him, Virgil questioning how much Roman had lost and Roman averting the subject, insisting that it was just pocket money and that it happened before he met Virgil, so it shouldn't matter now.

Patton kept himself distracted by talking to Virgil, making preparations for Roman’s party. The event wasn’t a surprise - it never was, they couldn’t keep anything secret from him for long - but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have a few surprises. They wrote letters to bands who might be able to come and play, looked into stocks of Roman’s favorite wine, making a list of what had to be done for people to stay there if need be. They had just about everything planned out by the time Remy and Emile showed up that afternoon. 

They had just about everything planned out and Patton didn’t have a distraction anymore. 

Patton kept his smile on, of course - he always did. He was the happy brother, after all. He kept his smile on, joked with Roman and Remy, laughed at Emile and Virgil’s jabs at how ridiculous their husbands were, but when Logan didn’t show up later that first night, Patton was worried.

“You haven’t said anything about your new beau, Pat,” Remy mused the next morning at breakfast. “Didn’t really get to meet him the day of. What’s he like?”

“He’s, um,” Patton thought on a safe way to say it.  _ He’s kind, he’s sweet, he’s caring, but he doesn’t want anybody to know it, so he’s distant. He acts cold, but his smile could melt a glacier, even when he’s doing his best to hide it. He’s brilliant, he’s restless, he’s… _ “He keeps himself to himself.” Patton smiled as he stabbed at a piece of egg. 

“That’s it,” Remy chuckled after waiting a moment. “One little comment that’s at least partially false because he’s involved enough in your life to get you to get glasses? Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice that. Come on, give me some detail. What about the love life? What about your first night? You’ve gotta be excited about that.”

“Remy,” Emile sighed, in a perpetual state of exasperation because of his husband at this point.

“Come on, sugar, you’re curious too.”

“We actually,” Patton cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to tell, because nothing happened. He saw how nervous I was, and he respects the boundaries of consent. Nothing’s happened.”

“Oh, that’s no fun,” Remy grumbled. 

“But it shows that he’s a very good man,” Emile assured, “that he would respect your boundaries like that. Not many people would.” Patton only nodded, staring down at his food, pushing his eggs and potatoes around absentmindedly. He knew that Emile was probably reading him like a book - that was his job, after all - and Remy probably had some idea what he was thinking, too. 

He knew what they’d been talking about, but he had a different definition of the “first night”. In his mind, the first night he’d spent with Logan was the night when he climbed in his chair and pulled himself close. The night that ended with him waking in Logan’s warm embrace and not wanting to leave it. The night that, to his memory, had yielded the best night’s sleep he’d gotten in years. 

That thought was still in Patton’s head when Roman suggested that the six of them take a walk (he was still wary of Dexter, but Patton had told him earlier that they were related now whether he liked it or not, so they might as well try to get along). Roman and Virgil led the walk, talking loudly, something about the plot of a book and the symbolism or moral behind it, with Roman defending the classic interpretation and Virgil and Dexter providing darker alternative interpretations. Emile was smiling next to Remy, working to keep the peace while Patton stayed at the back. He’d always liked walks to be quieter, the open world not a place for arguments or negativity or anything too disturbing. 

Being at the back also meant that nobody was worried when he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at a small, solitary bloom in the ground surrounding the rose bushes. A single bluebell.

Patton couldn’t help but smile. The memory wasn’t old, not by a long shot. He could have been staring at the rose bushes thinking back to the time Roman tried to hide in one and got thorns stuck everywhere - Remy had laughed so hard that day, even after Roman pushed him into the bush indignantly - or the time that one of his earlier suitors approached him with a bouquet of a dozen bright red roses, but no. He thought of Logan smiling at a field of bluebells. He thought of Logan telling him that he was sure he had some witch in him, of hopping into the blooms and grinning up at Logan’s half covered smile. 

“What are you thinking about?” Emile’s question made Patton jump, jerking from the blissful memory in half an instant. 

“Nothing in particular,” Patton smiled. 

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“You know who.” Patton sighed at the response.

“Please don’t psychoanalyze me right now, Em. I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not psychoanalyzing, I’m being a brother. And it’s as plain as the nose on your face that you’re falling for him, if you’re not already gone.” Patton shook his head, looking back down at the blossom before starting after the rest of the group. “Dexter says that Logan feels the same way about you.”

“Dexter doesn’t mean what he says half the time.”

“He said that you’re lying to yourself.”

“Why are you talking about this,” Patton smiled, turning to face Emile straight on. “I told you, I’m not thinking about anything in particular.” Emile only looked at Patton for a moment, then opened his arms. Patton, never being one to turn down a hug - even if he denied that it was for his benefit - stepped into Emile’s arms, the two of them enveloping each other in warmth.

It didn’t feel right.

Patton felt crazy for thinking that. A hug was a hug. Sure, there were different kinds and there were different levels of hugs, but he’d never been hugging someone and thought that it didn’t feel right. Patton couldn’t tell what was wrong with it at first. Emile’s hugs were some of the best - he was soft and warm and about the same height as Patton so they could hook their chins over each other’s shoulders and he smelled of lavender soap, and he was such a perfect teddy bear of a man…

Patton pressed his face into Emile’s shoulder when he realized that he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want the softness and same height, he wanted a rigid posture that stood a head taller than him. He didn’t want lavender, he wanted books and ink and chemicals that he couldn’t identify ingrained in the clothes. As much as he loved Emile, he didn’t want him.

“Thanks,” Patton muttered, holding back tears as he pulled away, refusing to think about Logan. “We should catch up with the others.”

That afternoon was when the first few guests arrived. They lived farther away and would be staying with Roman and Virgil until the day after Roman’s birthday. They were mostly closer friends of Roman’s. One of them, though, was a friend of the family that Patton was all too familiar with. 

Robert Laurens had grown up with them in every way short of being their actual brother. He was closer to Roman’s age than Patton’s, but he’d always had a soft spot for Patton. Patton wasn’t sure why exactly, but Robert had always stuck close to him, talked to him, told jokes and laughed at his, done everything in his power to get along with him. He was the one that had first started flirting with and courting Patton when they got to that point in their lives. He was the one that had brought Patton a bouquet of roses one day for no conceivable reason. 

Patton wasn’t surprised to see him there, not exactly. He just hadn’t made mental preparations for him.

“Roman,” he’d greeted when he arrived, smacking Roman on the back. “You’re getting old, buddy.”

“Aging like a fine wine, more like,” Roman countered. “You remember everybody, the whole motley crew, and- Patton, where’s Dexter?”

“He went into town for something,” Patton explained.

“Probably to find somebody to hustle.”

“Be nice.” Robert chuckled at Patton’s gentle warning.

“Patton, ever the peacekeeper.” Robert approached Patton after shaking Emile’s hand. Patton reached out his hand to shake, leaving himself open for Robert to turn his hand over and kiss his knuckle. Between him and Dexter doing that, Patton wasn’t sure if he was flattered or getting sick of people doing that. 

“Good to see you again, Robbie,” Patton took back his hand.

“I was a little bit devastated to hear about you getting hitched,” Robert teased. “I was hoping that at some point I’d work you down to the point of saying yes to me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m off the market now. Married man with a good husband.”

“Just good? Oh, you deserve so much better than good. You deserve the world.” Robert reached out, taking Patton’s hand back in his, this time interlocking his fingers around Patton’s. 

“Why don’t we get you settled.” Patton slipped out of his grip, heading back into the house. He used to humor him, to allow himself to blush and giggle when he flirted, to let him be crude and make attempts at being seductive, to let him hold and kiss his hand. Now, though, something didn’t feel right about it. It wasn’t just teasing, it wasn’t just a joke, it was somebody flirting with him when he wasn’t available, and it was kind of creepy. He should have been used to it, but his lenses had changed. He didn’t want Robert flirting with him, holding his hand.

He wanted Logan’s safe voice and secure arm around him.

He didn’t admit that, though. He wouldn’t admit that he was sad or longing in any way. He wouldn’t be the happy, stable brother if he did. He wouldn’t be the Patton that Robert knew. He wouldn’t be Patton. 

So he kept smiling. Throughout the day, through his continuous checking of the door to see if whoever had just pulled up was Logan, through Robert’s continuous flirting, through Emile’s unending stream of “are you okay”s and “do you want to talk”s. Patton knew that he meant well, but he couldn’t help but get irritated at the constant questions and the tone that bordered too closely on pity, and he knew well enough that Patton wasn't going to tell him anything if he didn't want to. 

“So when am I going to get to meet this husband of yours,” Robert asked. Patton felt like he’d blinked and he was standing in the library after dinner, a glass of wine in his hand and his heart aching.

“Soon, I think,” Patton smiled. The expression was all too natural for him, too easy to pull off. “He said he’d get down here as quickly as possible.”

“But what’s keeping him away? Is he scared of us?”

“No, he works with a pharmacist in town. He’s a chemist.” Patton’s grin brightened with a bit of pride. “They’re working on developing new treatments, making them more effective and more affordable.” Robert only squinted at the explanation.

“I thought you said he was an heir. Why would he be working?”

“Because he’s an intellectual,” Patton kept his grin on, “and he’s restless. He’s not doing it for the money.”

“But he is getting paid?” The question came from another old friend of Roman’s that Patton couldn’t quite remember the name of. 

“It’s his friend’s version of compensation, he’d be doing it anyway because he loves doing it.”

“Intellectual and restless,” Robert sighed, taking another sip of wine. “Those aren’t necessarily good qualities in a husband.” Sighing, Patton was beginning to wonder why he ever liked Robert in the first place. 

“But they aren’t necessarily bad,” Dexter defended.

Robert was saying something about “you’re his brother, of course you’ll defend him” when Patton decided to slip away, to go upstairs and, if not go to sleep, at least get away from the growing crowd. He loved his family, he’d come to love Dexter, and seeing old friends was fun, but he was exhausted. He wasn’t usually exhausted by stuff like that - he was normally more exhausted by being alone than by being with people, especially people that he knew. There was normally nothing that he liked more than a good party.

Today wasn’t normally, though. Today was one of the days that was more common than Patton dared admit to himself, one of the days when he wanted nothing more than to stop existing, if for just a little while. It was normally manageable, especially when he was surrounded by his brothers, but it was different today. He’d learned that earlier when he’d tried to hug Emile. They couldn’t help him today, they couldn’t comfort him without making him crave a different kind of comfort even more. Today was the first time Patton could remember feeling truly lonely in spite of being surrounded by people who cared for him.

It definitely wasn’t the first time that Patton sat on his bed only to collapse into a puddle of tears, to curl in on himself in order to feel some kind of body heat, to fall asleep to the sound of his mind echoing with self deprecation that he couldn’t convince himself was inaccurate. 

It definitely was the first time that he was woken by someone removing his shoes, his jacket, his glasses. It was the first time he’d opened his eyes to see a familiar silhouette against the moonlight pouring through his window as it pulled his covers over him. It was the first time he’d blinked hard, working to keep his eyes open, lifting his head slightly to try and get a better look at the features of the silhouette only to have his face cradled and a kiss pressed to his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch that was both new and familiar, inviting the pair of lips to just barely press against his eyelid, close to the corner where his skin was stained with salt from tears. The hands started to slip away, but Patton grasped them, begging them to stay. Patton was half asleep, unable to keep his eyes open as the silhouette climbed onto the bed with him, laying next to him and keeping one of his hands gently cupping Patton’s cheek, thumb stroking just beneath his eye. 

The sweet, gentle bliss was enough that Patton fell back to sleep effortlessly. 


	9. Chapter 9

Patton woke early and alone. He wasn’t sure how much of his memory was real and how much of it was a dream, but it was there. The memory was clear, unlike most of his dreams. There were two facts that he knew of: he’d woken up, and somebody had tucked him in. That was certain. The rest of it, he couldn’t tell if he’d been dreaming, if his dreams had slipped and melded with reality while he was halfway between asleep and awake. That was probably what happened. Somebody - probably Virgil or Roman - had come in and tucked him in and he’d woken up, imagined that it was Logan, and dreamed up a scenario where Logan stayed the night laying beside him, kissing his forehead...

That explanation didn’t satisfy him in the least. He could still feel the warmth, the tenderness… it had to be real.

Wandering around his room, Patton searched for something, anything that would serve as a sign that Logan had been there. It wasn’t long before he’d exhausted his room and approached the door to the dressing room attached to his that Logan would doubtlessly insist on using. Opening the door, Patton smiled.

A dark leather suitcase sat on the bed. He’d been here.

“Whoa, slow down there, Pat,” Remy chuckled as Patton came flying down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“Logan’s suitcase is upstairs,” Patton grinned. Remy smirked at Patton’s reason behind grinning. He loved nothing more than seeing his big brother excited.

“Somebody’s missed his beau.”

“Have you seen him,” Patton asked, used to brushing Remy’s teasing aside.

“No, but maybe someone else has.” Remy threw his arm playfully around Patton’s shoulders, leading him toward the dining room where people were already having breakfast.

“Yeah,” Dexter answered when Patton asked if anybody had seen Logan that morning or last night. “I saw him when he was on his way out. He said that he’d gotten in earlier this morning to drop his stuff off before heading to work.” Patton made himself keep grinning as he processed what Dexter had said.

The moon was still high when he woke up, he remembered that much. Of course, “earlier this morning” could mean anything from an hour before Dexter saw him to one in the morning, so it was still a distinct possibility - a probability bordering on fact, in Patton’s mind - that he hadn’t been dreaming. After all, Dexter said that he’d seen him leaving, not arriving. If he was leaving, he could have arrived at any time before then. Earlier that morning, late last night, almost anything was possible.

Patton was disheartened as he sat between Virgil and Dexter. He’d thought that once he knew whether or not Logan had really been in his room and treated him so sweetly was real, the pit in his stomach would disappear.

On the contrary, it grew.

Why had Logan done it? Patton had spent the past few days thinking -  _ knowing _ \- that Logan didn’t feel the same way about him, so why would he treat him like that? Why would he not only take care of him, but take the time to cradle his half unconscious face, to kiss his forehead and eyelid so tenderly, so lovingly? And if Patton had been wrong, if his feelings were reciprocated, then why would Logan stay away? Why would he leave Patton to wake up alone, why would he leave without so much as a word?

Virgil provided a welcome distraction from the endless swarm of questions when he asked Patton to help him start setting up for Roman’s party. Remy had taken Roman out to town with Robert and a few of his other friends to keep him occupied while Virgil and Patton set things up. Red and white streamers hung from every doorway and staircase, roses scattered everywhere until the entire house seemed overtaken with their soft, sweet perfume, candles illuminating every room. Everything had to be romantic, bright, vibrant - everything had to be Roman.

Virgil was a visionary when it came to decorations. That was at least partially why he and Roman both worked well together and were bickering half the time. Roman was praised as an artist, and Virgil deserved at least as much recognition and praise as Roman received. He had a way with colors and knowing how things would work in different areas, a way with that sort of thing that Patton knew he would never quite understand but that he adored about Virgil.

Consequently, Patton was the only one that Virgil really trusted to help him carry out his visions. Roman would always make alternative suggestions and Remy would constantly question Virgil, unable to understand what he was asking him to do more than half the time. Patton never question him, and was always able to figure out what Virgil meant and do what he was told. He was the one exception to Virgil’s ‘if you want it done right you have to do it yourself’ rule, because Patton could get the job done right if given proper instructions.

The day passed fairly quickly into evening, decorating and double checking with the cook that everything was running smoothly taking up most of their day. Before they knew it, Roman and the others were home and guests were arriving in what seemed to be packs of a half dozen at a time.

“Look who decided to show up,” Roman called out as one of the last crowds dispersed into the house. Jogging towards the stairs, Roman slung his arm around a pair of shoulders that was just barely taller than him, pulling him back towards the others.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to-” Logan struggled against Roman’s grip around him.

“Somebody’s missed you,” Roman explained, his tone coming off more as a reprimand than anything. Patton found himself smiling quietly at the sight of Logan trying to free himself from Roman’s grip. “Well, go on and hug your husband.” Roman gave Logan a final slap on the back, encouraging him roughly to do what he said.

Looking from Roman to Patton, Logan’s expression softened with a sigh. Smiling slightly and thrusting his cane into Roman’s hand, he opened his arms to Patton, offering him a hug if he wanted it. Patton’s smile grew as he stepped into the arms, burying himself in Logan’s warmth. It was the same as the warmth he’d felt last night, the same combination of ink and medicine and chemicals that he’d been craving.

“It’s good to see you again,” Patton muttered into Logan’s shoulder. Logan just barely squeezed him closer before releasing him, taking his cane back from Roman.

“I should go change,” Logan insisted. “You don’t want this walking around your party. I’ll be down in a minute.” He was already starting up the stairs before anyone could argue with him. For an amputee, he could move fast when he wanted to.

Patton’s smile only faded a little as he followed the others into the drawing room. He wished that Logan had seemed a little happier to see him, wished that he’d said something along the lines of “I missed you too,” but having him back in his arms, the residual tenderness from the night before and the extra squeeze before Logan released him…

“Somebody’s happy,” Remy teased him, throwing his arm around his shoulders and holding him close as they walked. “Correction,” he leaned closer to Patton’s face and wiggling his eyebrows, “somebody’s smitten.”

“Who’s smitten,” Robert asked, finding Patton as soon as he and Remy got into the drawing room.

“This guy,” Remy ruffled Patton’s hair. “His beau’s back.” The sneer was a blink, an instant before flickering back to a polite smile. Patton saw it, though. There was little he didn’t notice when it came to people’s faces, and Robert was one of the worst he’d ever seen at maintaining a facade.

“So the infamous chemist returns,” he smiled. “But surely you’re not all that happy to see him. It was just a marriage of convenience, after all.”

“That doesn’t mean he hasn’t grown on me.” Looking around, Patton excused himself to go talk to Emile and Roman. If he had to spend one more minute with Robert…

Patton wasn’t entirely sure when Logan came down, dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo like almost everybody else there. He was as clean cut as ever except that his hair was refusing to stay pushed back and Patton almost couldn’t stand it when Logan ran his fingers through his hair like that. He wasn’t sure what time they were called in to eat, only that he was seated between Robert and a stranger and he couldn’t help but wish that he was closer to someone he knew, that he had a hand with a warm palm and cold fingers to hold. He didn’t quite process which conversation topics he diverted everybody away from in order to keep the mood light and peace present, only that he did it more times than he should have had to. The early part of the evening moved too quickly for him to process everything, the entirety of it blurring into candlelight and the smell of roses and good food that all tasted basically the same and an odd combination of fake smiles and sincere laughter.

It was only when dinner ended and Patton ran to the door before everybody else to strike up the band waiting in the hall that he felt himself liven up. They’d taken out the rug, converting the main hall into a dance floor. Roman loved dancing more than almost anything in the world, save Virgil and his brothers (that’s what he said but he was so passionate for everything in life that after his family everything fell at about the same level). As soon as he heard the music, Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand and pulled him onto the floor for a dance, laughing giddily the whole time. Remy followed close behind, twirling a giggling Emile flamboyantly. Patton would have offered his hand to Logan, but he had already found a seat and was talking to someone, so he took Dexter out onto the floor instead (Patton ended up dancing with Dexter a lot that night to keep him from setting up a card game with some of the others. At one point, Roman and Logan reprimanded him in unison before Patton could pull him into another dance, the look that they gave each other making Virgil laugh harder than he had in a long time).

Patton only meant to step out for a minute in order to get his breath back. The library was relatively cool without all the bodies and movement, and it was definitely quieter without the band sitting right there. Running his fingers through his hair, he started for one of the cushiony chairs, wondering if sneaking downstairs to get a drink of water would take too long or if he could get away with it. He would have to get back out there soon enough to help Logan and Roman referee Dexter away from  gambling with their friends, but just for a moment, just a moment of relative peace…

The moment didn’t last nearly long enough.

“Losing stamina, are we?” Patton jumped up at Robert’s voice. His cheeks were dusted pink and his hair was a bit mussed. “I’m not surprised, you’ve been dancing with your brother-in-law all evening.”

“He’s got a bit of a gambling problem, I’m just trying to keep him from organizing a game,” Patton explained, trying to keep the explanation as innocent as possible.

“Shouldn’t you leave that to his brother?” Robert strode closer, slowly, but deliberately.

“He hardly listens to Logan,” Patton chuckled. “And he’s not about to listen to anybody else, but he can’t gamble if he’s dancing. I should probably get back out there, help keep the peace and all,” he reasoned as he started toward the door. Robert blocked his way, one hand grabbing his wrist and the other the small of his back. Patton wished he’d been able to keep in the tiny yelp that escaped his lips.

“I tried to come see you last night,” Robert breathed into Patton’s ear, his hand too tight around his wrist. His breath smelled of champagne. “I didn’t know you locked your door.”

“Yeah, well, you never know.” That was all Patton could think to say, because he didn’t lock his door. He would now, but he never had before. Had Logan locked it?

“Maybe we could lock it tonight,” Robert drawled as Patton tried to push away. “Keep everybody else out.”

“Rob-”

“You know I’ve always had a thing for you, Pat. I thought it was mutual. I still think it can be, if we just-”

“Excuse me.” The stern, deep voice was music to Patton’s ears. Robert turned over his shoulder, scowling at where Logan was standing in the doorway. Stepping forward, Logan’s posture and external serenity radiated a quiet power. “I’m going to have to ask you to step away.” Robert chuckled at the statement.

“Back off, crip,” he growled. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.” Patton just barely saw Logan shrug before screwing his eyes shut, turning his head away in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and Robert as possible.

It didn’t take much for Logan to pull Robert away, barring his cane across his chest to position him towards the door before using it to shove his back, pushing him closer to the exit. Logan stood between him and Patton, a firmly rooted tree facing down a drunk and angry twister. Robert’s indignant anger made him surge forward at Logan, only to have the head of his cane collide with his nose, a billiards cue sinking his nose into the pocket of his skull with a sickening crack. Holding his nose, Robert stumbled back and stayed there this time.

“I suggest you go upstairs, make up some story about having too much to drink and running into a pillar, or something,” Logan offered calmly as the space between Robert’s blazing eyes started to bruise. “I highly discourage trying to pin it on me acting on aggression without provocation, unless you want us to tell our side of the story and have your reputation ruined from here to Timbuktu.” Robert growled, grumbling something that neither Logan nor Patton could make out as he stalked out the door, tail between his legs. As soon as the door shut behind him, Logan turned to Patton. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Patton sighed, relief flooding him. “Thank you.”

“One of the best born people here and one of the least gentlemanly. Figures. It certainly makes him unsuitable.”

“God,” Patton laced his fingers in his hair, pulling gently. “I just can’t wait to get home so we can forget-”

“I think,” Logan sighed, leaning his cane against the back of the sofa, “I think that when this is over and everybody starts leaving, you should stay here. Be with your family, see some more of your old friends - some more suitable ones - figure things out. When you’re ready, I’m sure you’ll find someone you love who will be willing to wait for the divorce to go through-”

“Would you stop talking about getting a damn divorce?” Patton hadn’t meant to shout. He never really meant to do anything that he did when his emotions got the better of him, but between what had just almost happened and his frustration at Logan’s stubborn suggestion, he couldn’t stop himself from exploding. “If I was going to go, don’t you think I would have by now? You’re not getting rid of me. I don’t care if you think I’d be better off, I don’t care. I love you, Logan, and I’m not leaving.” Logan shook his head gently.

“Don’t do that to yourself.” His voice was just barely loud enough for Patton to hear. Logan shifted to grip one arm tightly around his chest, the other clasped to his jaw, covering his mouth. He was muttering to himself, something that Patton couldn’t quite make out.

“If you can tell me right now that you don’t love me, I’ll walk away.” Logan fell silent. “Go ahead. I won’t believe it because of everything you’ve done, because of what you just did, but go ahead and say it sincerely. It’ll hurt, but just say it. Say you don’t love me and mean it, and I’ll leave you alone.” Logan shook his head again, closing his eyes to keep from meeting Patton’s eyes.

“You need to understand,” he muttered, lowering his hand only slightly, “if your love is a drop, mine is all of the oceans and rivers and lakes in the world. If you’re just barely keeping your head at the surface, I’m already under a thousand feet of suffocating pressure. This sort of thing, it’s dangerous. We see it in chemistry all the time. Two elements have a strong attraction to each other, and if they meet, there’s a reaction. Given the balance of probability based on my experience, the reaction is most likely to be volatile, destructive.”

“But it could make something wonderful,” Patton stepped closer, taking Logan gently by the shoulders, pulling him closer. “It could be one of the best things that’s ever happened.” Patton cradled Logan’s face in his hands when he tried to look away. Logan bowed his head, working to not lean into the touch.

“But it could destroy you.”

“If this is going to destroy us,” Patton touched his forehead to Logan’s, able to feel restrained desperation radiating off of him, “so be it.” Blinking his eyes closed, Patton allowed himself to shift, to brush his lips against Logan’s. They were warm, chapped from worry, perfect. Patton’s head filled with helium, his focus blurring into nothing but colors and sensations playing out behind his eyes.

He was surprised by how Logan didn’t pull away.

He was even more surprised when Logan raised his hand, laying it over Patton’s as he turned slightly to kiss Patton’s palm. His eyes were still screwed shut, his breath shaking against Patton’s hand.

“I have to leave.” Patton pulled Logan closer when he felt him trying to move away, fingers interlaced in his hair, foreheads pressed together again.

“No, you don’t,” he pleaded. “You don’t need to. You don’t need to do anything, just stay here. Stay with me.”

“You have no idea how much I want to,” Logan sighed, removing Patton’s hands from the back of his head and taking a step back, “but I want you to be happy more, and you’ll be much happier if you forget me.”

“I couldn’t forget you.” Patton was on the verge of tears. “I couldn’t be happy without you, not now. Not ever.”

“You can, and you will.”

“You have no idea how much it hurt to not have you here with me this past week.”

“You would get over it, you would forget.”

“Would you stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me?” Logan only blinked at Patton’s growl. “What you’re trying to do, I don’t know if you think it’s brave, or what, but it’s not. It’s nothing but stupid. We love each other, we’ve admitted it, everybody knows we do. Why can’t you just accept it?”

Logan just stared at him. He wanted so badly to hold him, to stay with him like he was suggesting. He wanted to take Patton home, to grow old with him. More than anything, he just wanted to see him smile, to see that grin that was pure sunshine, to hear the laughter that was unnaturally contagious. Leaving him didn’t feel right, it felt like a pike being driven into his chest, screwed into his heart until there was a wound that would never heal. He couldn’t change his mind, though. He knew that he would never be worthy of Patton, that he would never make him as happy as possible. He knew that Patton would never smile the way he was meant to if he was stuck with someone like him. He knew that he would never deserve such a perfect, such  a wonderful…

“Talk to me,” Patton pleaded as Logan started to turn his back. “Why won’t you let yourself accept that I want to be with you?”

“I can’t be the reason,” Logan struggled, planting his hand on the back of the sofa. “You don’t… I don’t...” Logan growled in frustration, unable to bring himself to finish his thoughts.  _ I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve to feel the kinds of things you make me feel. You don’t deserve to spend your life chained to something like me. I can’t be the reason you lose your light, that you become content with a half happiness when you could have a full and happy life. _ Pushing his glasses up onto his forehead, Logan pressed his hand over his forehead and eyes, trying to work his face back into neutrality.

“Stop holding back,” Patton encouraged, cupping Logan’s cheek in his hand and pulling his hand away from his eyes. “Just for one minute, let yourself go.” Craning up, Patton pressed another gentle kiss into Logan’s cheek. Logan couldn’t help but lean into the touch. His heart pounded, reaching out through his chest in an attempt to get at Patton. His mind raced too fast for him to think. The perfect warmth of Patton being right there, within his grasp, it was getting harder and harder to keep himself under control.

“You don’t-” Logan was cut off by Patton’s lips against his again, this time an actual kiss instead of a brush, a kiss that he’d involuntarily returned. Blinking down at Patton as he pulled away, Logan’s mind flashed back to the day they were at the altar. It seemed a lifetime ago now. He had seemed so helpless that day, so scared. He’d flashed a fake smile, he’d done what the people wanted.

This wasn’t that. He was radiant. His cheeks were dusted pink, though that was probably from frustration and exhaustion from dancing as much as anything else. His eyes were glittering hopefully, the blue enough to revive Logan and drown him. For whatever reason, because of whatever had been running through his head, Patton smiled. He stole Logan’s breath away, completely wrecked him.

“God help me.” The exhale was swallowed up almost as soon as it was in the air as Logan pressed another kiss to Patton’s smile, his movements deeper, more desperate than Patton’s had been. He hardly heard the thud of his cane hitting the rug as he tangled his fingers in Patton’s curls, pulled him closer by an arm around his waist. Their chests pressed together, able to feel each other’s heart beating in flawless unison through the layers of clothing.

Patton soared. Something in him couldn’t help but smile against the way Logan was holding him, his every movement begging for more. Patton was more than happy to oblige, pushing forward until Logan fell against the back of the sofa. A small cry escaped his lips as he pulled Patton down with him, Logan landing on the cushions with his ankle caught on the back of the sofa, and Patton, a giggling mess, landing on top of him. Logan might have asked why Patton was giggling if he wasn’t basking in the melody of it, soaking in every detail of that amazing smile.

“What would I do without you,” he breathed, his thumb stroking Patton’s perfectly round cheek, just under the eye.

“Just last week you were asking what you would do _with_ me,” Patton teased, lowering himself so his chin rested on Logan’s chest, smiling up at him playfully.

“Either way, I know the answer,” Logan mused, able to feel his heart spilling over. “What I’m going to do with you, is I’m going to ensure that you are safe and loved as you should be and as happy as humanly possible - beyond that threshold, if I can manage it. I will ensure it if it kills me. And without you,” Logan’s voice caught in his throat. He was completely wrecked, ruined. He’d had walls up all his life, and Patton had demolished them in an instant. He had taken a hammer and chisel to Logan’s protective shell and chipped away at it until nothing but pieces remained, and the pieces - every last shard of shell, every last particle of dust that remained, everything that he had unearthed from behind the walls and within the shell - belonged to Patton. “Without you I will die.”

“You sound like Roman,” Patton smiled, reaching up to run his fingers through Logan’s hair.

“It’s an honor to be compared to someone you hold in such high regard, but please never do it again.” Patton laughed at the deadpan request, surging up to smile into another round of kissing. Their movements weren’t desperate or hungry anymore. They moved slowly, deeply, tenderly.

The world around them ceased to exist - they ceased to exist as they knew themselves. As far as they could tell, their physical forms had fallen away until only their essence remained and melded together into the purest form of feeling. As far as they could tell, they were nothing but a sensation. They were nothing but happiness, nothing but bliss, nothing but love.


	10. Chapter 10

They spent that night together. They shared a bed, never left each other’s arms, did everything short of actual intercourse - Logan held that barrier firm, and though Patton couldn’t see why, he respected it. He was too happy to question Logan’s motives. He was too fully engulfed in blissful warmth, strong arms and lips that had worked themselves soft. Patton learned every hair on Logan’s head and Logan could name each and every one of Patton’s freckles. Patton fell asleep in Logan’s arms, Logan to the smell of Patton’s hair, and neither of them could think of anything they’d experienced - anything they’d ever heard of - that was more perfect.

And Patton, for the second morning in a row, woke up smiling until he realized that he was alone.

A letter sat on the pillow next to him in place of Logan, there sat a letter addressed to “My Beloved.”

Patton tore it open to read, but he couldn’t read it without his glasses. He shoved his glasses in front of his eyes, but it was too dark to make out the words. He stumbled over himself getting to the window, throwing open the curtain, and though it was too bright to be comfortable for his still sleeping eyes, he could finally read Logan’s neat script.

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry for last night, I was not in my right mind. I’m sorry that you were forced to spend this portion of your life with me, though I am sure you’ll forget it soon enough. I’m sorry for loving you and for making you think you love me in return. I’m sorry.  _

_ I made a promise, though, and I am keeping it. I promised that I would ensure that you are safe and happy and loved as you should be, and I am keeping that promise. I wish that I could keep that promise by staying with you, but there is no way that I could ever love you as you should be loved. It is killing me to leave you this morning, but I swore that I would keep this promise if it killed me, and so I am keeping it. I know that it may hurt at first - Heaven and Hell only know how much it hurts me to keep writing this - but you will get past it. I have left you in the safe arms of your family, and I know for a fact that you will be far happier with them and whoever you choose to replace me than you could have ever been with me. I hope that you will respect my decision, and that the only time we meet again will be to split the fortune that is owed you. By then, I will be a hollow shell of a man, and you will be glad that I left you to find your true love. _

_ Yours entirely, yours eternally,  _

_ Logan Foster. _

Patton didn’t know if he burst into tears because of anger or sadness or frustration or despair or something in the middle, but he was crying before he got halfway through the letter. By the time he was reading the name, he was on his knees, bawling. The letter was on the floor in front of him, he was crumpled in on himself, hugging himself close as he tried to keep himself together so he didn’t fall apart as he felt his insides shredding to pieces. His tears rained down onto the letter in front of him, staining it with sorrow.

He knew that it was Virgil who found him while he was still sobbing. He knew the gentle touch well, especially in combination with the sobs that made him feel like he was going to be sick.  Virgil was always the one that found him and held him when he had a breakdown. There wasn’t usually a big reason. 

He heard the paper shift as Virgil picked it up to read it, sighing to himself before passing it off to Roman, who had just come in. Patton just barely heard Roman curse Logan as he bent further over himself, arms gripped around his midsection as he felt his chin against his knees, his forehead against the carpet. He heard Roman shut and lock the door, keeping everybody else out. He and Virgil were the only ones who knew both Logan and Patton well enough to figure something out, and they could go and find Dexter if they needed his help. 

“I thought that everything was okay,” Virgil sighed, still gently holding Patton, hand drawing soothing circles on his back. When he’d seen the two of them going upstairs last night, holding hands and Patton unable to stop smiling, he’d thought that they’d finally worked things out. He thought that Patton was finally going to be truly happy.

Virgil liked Logan - he did - and he could hear in the letter that he thought he was doing the right thing. That didn’t stop him from swearing that if the moron didn’t make amends, then he would kill him the next time he saw him.

Patton wasn’t sure when his sobbing turned to shaken breaths, how long it took for the shaking to stop and for the lack of any feeling to take over. He had no idea what he was planning to do when he got up and got dressed. There was still something burning in the pit of his stomach, but it was quiet now. It wasn’t lashing out. I just needed to move, to go.

Patton didn’t quite remember Virgil and Roman asking where he was going when they heard him asking for a car to be brought around. He didn’t quite remember telling them that he was “going to find my moron” and that if he couldn’t be found he’d be back before midnight. Neither of them tried to stop him, instead offering to go with him for moral support. Patton denied with a slight smile. He couldn’t remember what exactly made him smile - maybe it was habit, maybe it was Virgil and Roman, two of the most important and loved people in his world, maybe it was something else. Either way, he smiled as he got into the car and rode away from his childhood home. 

Roman stood outside, watching the drive for longer than he probably should have, thinking back to the last day he and Virgil stayed at Foster house, the night that Logan had pulled him aside.

“Listen,” he’d started, leaning forward toward Logan. “I like you. I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but I do. That being said, if you ever turn, if you ever do anything to hurt him-”

“You’ll kill me,” Logan smirked, obviously just tipsy enough on wine and whiskey to be open. “You and your husband  _ and _ your brother  _ and _ his husband. Yes, I’ve heard this speech before, and from a much more intimidating source. Don’t worry, I can’t exactly outrun you.” Roman winced as Logan pulled up the leg of his pants to reveal his prosthetic. “You have nothing to worry about, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever mean enough to him to hurt him. Not in any permanent way.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Roman tilted his head. “You seem to be growing on him.”

“It’s easier to act that way when he has people that he loves around, namely you and Virgil.” Logan took a deep breath, his gaze shifting slightly to stare at something behind Roman where nothing existed. “Your brother… is everything good about this world. Aphrodite couldn’t dream of being so beautiful, Apollo himself couldn’t begin to shine as brightly. I knew that the minute I saw him. I’ll never deserve him. I’ll keep him safe for as long as he needs, but only until he finds someone much closer to being worthy of him. Something as cold hearted as me…” Logan took another deep breath and another swig from his glass of whiskey. “You won’t have me in your hair for long. I promise.” Logan finished his glass and marched for the door to the others before Roman could get in another word.

It was that exchange that made Roman’s big brother instincts kick in and start worrying not only about his precious Patton, but Logan as well. Now, watching the road Logan had snuck down like a thief in the night, the road Patton was taking to track him down, Roman could only wish for them to work something out, for them to be happy.

~

It didn’t take long for Patton to reach Foster house. Nothing much had changed - everything was still in bloom, saturated with color and life as the sun shone bright in the clear sky. The only thing that seemed out of place was the taxi pulled up in front of the door. It didn’t stay, though. It started away as Patton approached, revealing an obviously frustrated Dexter standing on the other side of it. 

“Finally. I knew you’d show up,” he called out as Patton got out of the car.

“How long have you been here? I thought you were-”

“I heard him leaving and knew that somebody had to keep him where he could be found. I was only a few minutes behind him.” Dexter led Patton inside to the library as he explained, the sound of someone talking to himself echoing into the hall. 

“I dreamt last night our love return’d,” Logan muttered to himself as Dexter led Patton to the open door to the library. He was shelving books, reciting to himself absentmindedly. “And, sooth to say, that very dream/ was sweeter than its phantasy,/ Than if for other hearts I burn’d,/ For eyes that ne’er like thine could beam/ In Rapture’s wild reality.”

“I tried talking to him,” Dexter whispered to Patton, “but he doesn’t listen to me. Good luck.” Patton stepped forward into the library, Logan’s back still to him as he kept stacking, kept reciting from memory.

“Then tell me not, remind me not,/ Of hours which, though for ever gone,/ Can still a pleasing dream restore,/ Till Thou and I shall be forgot,/ And senseless, as the mouldering stone/ Which tells that we shall be no more.” Logan bent over his desk, fingernails finding their way to his lip as he looked over something.

“I think I remember that one,” Patton announced, stepping closer into the library. Logan nearly jumped out of his skin. “You read that to me once. You thought I was asleep.”

“I thought that you were going to do as I said,” Logan muttered, wiping the blood from his lip with a bandaged hand.

“When have I ever done that? Also, what did you do to your hand?”

“It’s no-”

“He punched the wall,” Dexter interrupted, leaning against the doorway.

“You punched a wall?”

“It’s the only way he’ll let himself have any sort of emotional release. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s broken-”

“Dexter,” Logan’s voice cracked, edging on a shout. “Do you mind?” Dexter shrugged, silently wishing Patton good luck one last time before closing the door behind him. “You should have stayed with your family.”

“Did you honestly think that after what we’ve been through, that after last night, I’d just let you go that easily?”

“You’re not bound to me,” Logan reminded him. “I made sure of that, that we weren’t ever properly together so you can leave without feeling obligated to stay.”

“I know that I’m not obligated, but I am going to stay because it’s what I want.”

“I thought that we both knew that this was strictly for convenience, that it wouldn’t-”

“What about this is convenient, Logan?” Patton’s voice was steadier than he’d imagined it would be. He thought that he would be screaming already. “What has happened that you imagine is convenient?”

“I was trying to make it convenient for you by giving you a safe place to stay that was acceptable to your parents until you found a person and place that you loved. I was trying to make everything convenient for you, not me.”

“And by trying to do that, you’ve only made things more complicated. You could have made everything easier for both of us if you would just accept that we love each other and make each other happy. Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Because I know that I don’t - I could never deserve you. You wouldn’t stay happy - I could never make you as happy as you can possibly be. I’ve seen you at your happiest, and I couldn’t-”

“You don’t know that! When do you think you’ve seen me at my happiest when you weren’t-”

“Two years ago, Christmas at Hemingway Manor.” Patton shut his mouth, taken aback by the answer. He hardly remembered that night. “We were only introduced, I doubted that you’d remember. In fact, I counted on it. I saw you, though. I fell for you that night. I saw you dance the night away, watched as you laughed and twirled and glowed brighter than all the thousands of candles that lit the place. I saw you and I loved you, and when I realized it was you that I was engaged to, I made a plan to ensure your happiness. I can’t make you happy like that - I never could - but I could make you comfortable until you found a way out. And I still stand by that plan. It’s hit some bumps in the road, but I still believe that someone else will be so much better for you. I never wanted to hurt you, but while I was trying to stay away you were...” Patton sighed as Logan pressed his palm to his forehead. 

“Okay,” Patton thought out loud. Shouting wasn’t going to work with Logan - all it did was get him more worked up which led to more shutting down. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You and I will stay together, live together like none of this mess ever happened, like a normal married couple would, until our one year anniversary. That gives us, what, nine or ten months to live together? If by then one of us has fallen out of love with the other, then we’ll separate. If not, then we won’t, and you’ll have to accept that we’re happy. Deal?” Patton put out his hand for Logan to shake, smiling only enough for Logan to know that there were no hard feelings.

Logan couldn’t find it in him to say no. He went over Patton’s proposition again and again in his head, but he couldn’t find a way that it wouldn’t work out. He knew that Patton would come to his senses sooner or later, and sure, he would always feel guilty for taking up a year of his life when he could have been anywhere else, but if Patton was so determined to have his way…

“All right. Deal,” Logan conceded, taking Patton’s hand to shake. He only wondered for an instant why Patton’s grip was so strong until he was yanked forward, Patton’s lips pressing to his to seal the deal. Patton wasn’t a fan of the metallic taste of anxiety on his lip, but he was too glad to have him close to care. He would find a way to help him with that - he had time. He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

~

Patton couldn’t stop smiling. The evening air of Spring was light in his lungs, warm on his skin. In the field in front of him, he could see all five of his brothers, his parents, a few of Logan’s friends standing in the field. Logan was standing in front of the same priest that had married them, his light grey suit and blue tie matching Patton’s perfectly. They stood just at the edge of the forest, and the bluebells were in full bloom. 

Renewing their vows had been Logan’s idea. He’d brought it up the night of their anniversary when they got back from what was deemed Patton’s victory dinner. They were just at the front door when it started snowing and Patton stopped to watch. The suggestion had barely processed in Patton’s mind when he turned to see Logan down on one knee, enveloping Logan’s fingers in both of his hands. 

“Will you allow me to be yours forever, for us this time?” He didn’t get a verbal answer like he’d been anticipating, instead immediately tackled into the snow by an ecstatic Patton, crying and kissing him and hugging him close. Flakes of snow crowned his curls and Logan swore for the hundredth time in his life that he had never seen anything so exquisite.

He swore the same thing for the two-hundredth time when he saw Patton settle beside him in front of the priest. 

“Logan,” Patton smiled up at Logan, recalling the vows that he’d worked out days earlier, “you did everything that you could to get me to leave you. You challenged me, tested my resolve, and swore that it was all for my happiness. A year ago, I was at my happiest when you agreed to my deal. I grew happier every day after that, I got to see you every day, I got to make you happy, and I fell more and more in love with you. I am never going to leave you, I will never let you think that you’re not enough because it’s you that has made me the happiest man on the face of the earth, and I will spend every second of my life trying to make you feel something close to how you make me feel.” Logan reached out, taking Patton’s hand in his, cheeks dusted a glorious shade of red. He straightened his back when the priest told him it was his turn. 

“I am not often wrong. Ask anyone who knows me, I don’t make mistakes and am usually right about things. I still think that I am right in that I will never deserve you. However, you have proven yourself right. Every day for the past year you’ve proven yourself right because every day I swore to myself that you would come to your senses and be gone by the next day. I still think that you should have, that I should have stayed away from you so you could find someone that deserves you. Nonetheless, allow me to admit for the first and hopefully last time: You’re right, I was wrong, and I acted like an idiot. And yes, you do have permission to hold that over my head for the rest of our lives now that we’re stuck together by choice.” Patton laughed, causing Logan to break into the widest grin Patton had ever seen on his face. “I love you, Patton Foster. I love you, and I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

“You may-” Patton already had his arms around Logan’s neck, their lips pressed together before the priest could finish the line. He felt lighter than air, Logan’s bear hug the only thing keeping him from floating away on cloud nine. The small audience cheered, Dexter and Remy both whistled, but Patton was already long gone. Pulling away only slightly, all that Patton saw was eyes glittering with endless galaxies and a smile that could cure any disease. All he heart was the tempo of Logan’s heart and the slight chuckle of disbelief that rose in his throat. Engulfed in the scent of ink and bluebells, Patton giggled as Logan hugged him closer, picking him up off the ground to twirl him around. 

Nothing could be better. 


End file.
